For The Love Of Grace
by Angel From Above Is Here
Summary: What if Grace's past comes back to haunt her? What if Boyd has to be the strong one now, the one who will pick her up now she had fallen? Can this all come to a good end? Read to find out!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you will all enjoy my newest fanfic! Please read and review! I could do with a lot of feedback, it's my first Waking the Dead fan fiction!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Waking the Dead. And I'm afraid I never will, either…  
**_**  
This story is dedicated to my best friends Jessica and Evelien, for being there when the world comes crashing down.**_

**Chapter 1**

Grace sighed; it had been yet another hard day in the office so far.

Eve was still down in the lab, running the final test that would make or break their latest Cold Case. Spencer and Stella had gotten into a fight a while ago, for no apparent reason at all. The fact they weren't speaking to one another made working together very difficult. Looking at the clock she sincerely hoped the two remaining hours would pass by somewhat more peaceful.

When Eve entered the Unit some twenty minutes later, it seemed as if her prayers had been answered. She was smiling broadly, excitedly waving a piece of paper from one side to the other.

"Please tell me we've solved this," Boyd huffed. It was more than obvious that he was annoyed as well.

"We did! Maxwell Reece is our murderer. I found his blood on the hilt of the knife that was used to kill Elizabeth. I also pulled a few epithelials from the cracks in the knife, which were his. And his fingerprints were the only ones I came across, too."

Boyd actually smiled at that, though she was convinced she was the only one to see. He did his best to hide any emotions apart from discontent and anger. She had to refrain from following his lead. This had been one of the most difficult cases they had dealt with so far, and it had taken them the longest to solve.

"Spencer, you take Stella and arrest Maxwell for the murder of Elizabeth Green. I'll let the boss know we've managed to catch our guy. Good job everyone," he uncharacteristically praised the team.

The youngest two seemed to have immediately forgotten they were supposed to be fighting; Spencer grabbed their jackets, throwing his colleague's towards her whilst making his way over to the door and pulling it open.

Seeing the Detective Superintendent turn his back on both of the women left behind, ready to make a call to Marianne, Grace shook her head lightly and focused her attention on Eve. It wouldn't help if she kept pondering why Marianne suddenly wanted to meddle in the CCU. Since she had made Boyd call her to inform her about a case three weeks ago, Grace had noticed things had changed a little. The rest hadn't, and she believed Boyd liked it that way.

"I can tell you're more than happy this job's done," the elder woman said.

"No kidding!" Eve replied rather sarcastically. "Boyd was on the phone or in the lab every half an hour to see whether I'd found anything to help him. He went crazy when I told him I hadn't. I thought you'd have heard him scream all the way 'til here!"

Grace winced slightly at hearing that. So that was what had gotten him into the bad mood he'd been in since lunch! Bracing herself for the answer she was undoubtedly going to get, she asked the other woman how bad things had been.

"He raged on about being surrounded by a bunch of incompetent so called police officers who can't seem to tell the difference between a clue worthy of their time and something with no better destination than the bin," Eve told her.

"He shouldn't have said that! I told him only yesterday that you were all doing the best you could! I'm so sorry he behaved like that again," the profiler said whilst shaking her head.

"Stop apologizing on his behalf, Grace!" Eve sternly spoke. "He's old enough to do that himself! I can't believe you do that every time! And I can't believe you let him get away with constantly shouting at you! I'm certain he does it to you more often than to the whole team combined!"

Grace laughed at the comment her colleague made, knowing full well she was telling the truth.

"You're absolutely right, Eve. There's no denying that. But he only does that because I'm closer to his age and mostly understand his anger and frustration. And I usually know exactly why he takes it out on me, another difference. I guess that's why I let him get away with it," Grace explained.

Eve's mouth opened as if she was about to speak, but then she had a change of heart and decided against it. She settled for shrugging her shoulders instead. Grace read the deeper meaning of the gesture and the unspoken words, thought, simultaneously cursing herself for reading a friend, something she'd vowed never to do.

Eve now seemed to change her mind for the second time. Her mouth opened to say the words she had been about to say earlier, but before she could act upon the impulse, Boyd's door flew open with a rather loud thud. His face displayed a mixture of emotions, mostly fear and anger, that Grace was sure was unreadable to anyone but her.

"Grace, my office."

It was not a request. This was a full blown order! He hardly ever used that tone with her. And she didn't need him to, to understand something was wrong. His whole demeanor told her this was serious, she'd better not make him wait too long.

She pushed herself away from the desk on top of which Eve was sitting, legs dangling slightly. She smiled when Eve told her she would be down at the lab to clean up the mess she'd made whilst working; that way she could ask Stella whether she wanted to go out to celebrate today's events when she got back.

Grace now stepped into Boyd's office. A very familiar smell lingered there, his unique scent… Something masculine, his aftershave and the one component that was entirely his and no-one else's. She always found it hard to concentrate when being in close proximity to him, let alone in his office! Luckily for her she almost always succeeded in keeping that hidden from him.

"Take a seat, Grace," Boyd asked her. She obeyed right away, opting to take the chair directly opposite him to sit down in.

She found it difficult to accurately read all the emotions she could see on his face. Her heart pounded in her chest. All her senses were awakened by the strangeness of the situation.

"Are you okay, Boyd?"

She cursed herself for asking this as soon as the words had left her mouth. It was general knowledge that Boyd disliked talking about his feelings, and that he reacted badly when someone tried pushing him to do just that. Although she knew he trusted her more than anyone else, she was worried. She could have made him close up again.

"Marianne was so happy with our achievement she immediately put us on a new case. When I heard which one it was, I asked her not to do this… I swear I did my best to get rid of this case, to make it somebody else's problem… But she just wouldn't listen… I'm so sorry, Grace…" he almost inaudibly said.

Grace, however, did catch the last bit of the sentence. She felt her whole body tense. It would take a lot for Peter to say something like that, but she had no idea what the reason was he said it now.

"Sorry for what?" she tentatively asked.

"It's a case connected to Patrick Brown… he was released from prison a week ago. As you'll remember, his father was connected to the highly public drug related case all those years ago. To top it all off, a body had been found and they fear he might have something to do with either Patrick or Edward. She wants us to look into that, because we have you."

"In other words, she wants me to have a look at the crime scene photos and try to determine whether it's possible Patrick's behind it all?"

Boyd nodded in agreement. He suddenly looked tired and years older, the lines in his face appearing to deepened as he rubbed it with his hand that wasn't resting on his desk. He then said:

"I don't know what she wants. From either one of us for that matter. I think she's doing this to make me pay for not giving her what she wanted before, to discredit me and to hurt me. And I don't give a shit about that, she can do to me what she wants! But she has to keep her hands of my team!"

Grace managed a weak smile; her hands were trembling. She felt the urge to flee from CCHQ bubble up inside her, and she fought to keep it at bay.

"Are you going to be alright?" Boyd looked at her, worry evident on his face. She did her best to dispel it.

"Of course I am," she hushed him. This was a lie. However, she deemed it a necessary one. She refused to have him fuss over her, it was the last thing she needed. She had dealt with it once before, she would eventually be able to do it again.

Boyd eyes her somewhat suspiciously. She was sure he knew she wasn't telling him the truth. She could see it in his grey eyes. But he held his tongue, for which she was very grateful.

"You can go now, Grace. Tell the other they're free to go, too. The paperwork can wait until tomorrow."

Grace pushed her chair back and got up. She noticed he had said nothing about informing them of their new case. In an effort to restore normality to the room, she asked him:

"And what about you? Aren't you going home?"

"I am, I just have to sign these papers. That shouldn't take longer than half an hour."

She nodded. The pile of files he was waving at, was obviously the result of delaying the paperwork he hated. She saw rapports that needed to be filled out, half attempts at explanatory notes for other agents… She guessed only three or four papers needed just a signature. He was going to be in for a lot longer than half an hour, she was sure of it. Though she didn't think he'd be finishing it all.

The joy she saw when she made her way back to her office, made her feel slightly sick to the stomach. She felt so left out… How could they be so happy when she felt this empty, sad and drained?

No-one noticed her slipping into her office. Stella was laughing at one of Spencer's jokes, Eve was doing the best she could not to do the same. For them, things were as normal as they'd ever been.

Sitting down behind her desk, she rubbed her eyes. This was one of those days she wondered why she'd ever chosen to do this job. Images of the dead bodies she had seen the last few months and of people breaking down in front of her after having heard their loved one was dead, played in front of her eyes. Was it all worth it, she wondered, the pain and loss this job held?

She was only pulled out of her thoughts when she heard a soft knock on her door: it was Stella, holding Spencer's left arm in a tight grip, who wanted to know if Grace felt like coming along to the new club in town to relax now this case was over. She kindly declined.

"I've got some unfinished papers to attend to," she borrowed Boyd's excuse. "And an old woman like me is not the kind of company you should wish on yourself for a night out. Go and have fun, don't worry about me. You deserve it."

"Alright than, if you say so… But don't stay in too late, you should get a quiet night as well."

Grace voiced her gratitude over the young woman's words, ensuring her she was not going to be making it too late. She then watched the backs of the three retreating "children". Somehow it made her long for the days she had been young and careless, free.

She cleared her mind by shaking her head. Grabbing a pen that was laying on her desk, she turned it around in her hands a few times. She mentally cursed herself. _Don't allow your mind to wander down those roads, it's good for nothing! __Focus on your job, that'll help!_

And so she set to work. Seconds became minutes, minutes became hours… Her pen wrote meaningless words on empty pages, her hands signed forms of which she had no idea what they were all about. The monotone action was just what she needed, something that made time pass more quickly and that gave her no chance to think.

After some time, her eyes started itching with fatigue. Her muscles were getting sore from sitting in the same position for too long. Yet she did not get up. She threw the file she had completed on the pile to her right and took up another one.

Somewhere in the distance she registered two people where whispering to each other, but under the impression there was but one person around, who would not hear them. She yawned.

"Are you sure Jack said he'd left it in the DSI's office?" the first woman asker her companion. Grace vaguely acknowledged the voice belonged to a certain Enna, who worked downstairs at the entry.

"Peter was the last one he went to see. He says he still had the file on him when he came up here," the second woman replied. This had to be Laura, the ever present friend of Enna's, Grace understood.

"Probably took it home with him, and now he's trying to pretend he did not," she spoke. "And we're left to clean up his mess! This is the last time I'm looking for _his_ possessions everywhere he tells me to!"

Her voice died away. Grace didn't need to loop up to understand Laura had given Enna a nudge in the ribs at the sight of the profiler bend over her desk. This was, after all, the office right next to the one they were heading for, and they clearly hadn't counting on anyone else being present. Frankly, Grace couldn't care less.

One opened the door to Boyd's office after having knocked, and she could hear a quiet conversation develop. But their hopes of finding the end to their quest in search of the missing file were quickly dashed.

"I don't know which file you're looking for. Now bugger of and let me do my job!" Boyd suddenly raised his voice.

In the doorway both women waited for a second.

"We're sorry to have bothered you," Enna said.

"You'd better be! Now be gone and don't you dare come back before I'm finished," he said, and with that Enna and Laura went.

Grace now found herself a lot calmer then she'd been right after her talk with the DSI. Although she didn't look at the clock, she realized more than half an hour must have passed already. Not wanting to go home because she dreaded the loneliness and silence awaiting her there, she decided a little more work could do no harm.

Ignoring the fact her fingers were hurting because she'd been holding on to her pen this tightly, she wrote one last line on a perpetrator she had recently helped put behind bars and on whom she was sure some advice was strongly needed. She added the comment this woman was a danger to all those around her and they should keep her under strict observation for at least a week. After that they should make her talk to a prison psychiatrist once a week to follow her adjustment and mental state.

Grace yawned a little. The clock read nine thirty. It was time to head home, however much she hated to admit it.

When she got up and turned around to grab her coat and purse, she saw the lights in Boyd's office were out. Not surprising at this time at night, thought she had secretly hoped to catch a glimpse of him before she headed home.

Unbeknown to her, Boyd had only left a quarter before her. He had watched the profiler for a while. The way she'd been sitting there, bend over her desk writing frantically… It had made him feel so helpless… He had wanted to do something, if only he had known what…

Whilst walking to his car, he had prayed. Something he hadn't done in over five years. Prayed for Grace to be alright…


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The second chapter is up, people! I hope you all like it! Please let me know what you think of it, even if you absolutely hate it! Review make me a better writer, after all! And again I want to thank my friend Jessica for reading this chapter through. I'm sure there'd be a whole lot more mistakes in here if she hadn't!**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Nor will I ever, I'm afraid…

**Chapter two**

Boyd stood in front of the team. They'd all gathered around him to hear what the boss had to say about this new case. The joy over their latest achievement still had not abided, so they were confident they would be able to solve this quickly.

"On these pictures you can see Robert McGrey. He was murdered two days ago. His window was smashed, he was tied up before being repeatedly stabbed. We've got to solve this since he was supposed to have bought drugs from Patrick Brown's father, which makes this a cold case, the MO is consistent with Patrick's, and because one of us has dealt with Patrick before."

He now turned towards Grace. It was the first good look at her he'd had that morning. He noticed she appeared to be somewhat more tired than usual, but else she seemed to be okay. He was relieved to see she was coping. All weekend he had beaten himself up that she might have been breaking down because he had been unable to turn down this case.

"Grace, you're the profiles, plus you're the one who's dealt with Patrick before. Could he have done this? And what kind of a man is he?"

"Patrick is a very disorganized man. Though you would hardly notice. His possessions are all neatly ordered, there will be no clutter in his house whatsoever. To an outsider he would appear to suffer from obsessive compulsive disorder. He is afraid of his own mind, which is the thing above all else that makes him a danger to everyone around him. And he responds badly to violence because of childhood abuse. He murdered his own mother at the age of twenty-two, thirty-five years ago," she explained.

"But that doesn't say whether he has or hasn't done this," Boyd said. Grace moved closer to the board, scanning the pictures thoroughly.

She crinkled her nose in concentration, something he found very endearing about the woman. Luckily for him she didn't notice.

"The restrained hands either indicate that the offender wasn't strong enough, doubted his own strength or was afraid his victim would struggle and render him unable to kill him. That anxiety fits Patrick's profile, as he doubt himself all the time. Of course there's the age as well. And there's the injuries. Some of these lacerations are deep and deliberate, others are shallow and insecure. As he was unsure this was really what he wanted to do. Patrick never liked violence, but it's the only thing he can turn to, to resolve his issues. My guess is, Patrick is the one who murdered Robert McGrey. Find me some physical evidence that puts him on the scene and I'll talk to him. Then I'll be able to give you a definite answer."

Eve grimaced; there were boxes full of evidence: the clothes the victim had been wearing, the carpet covered in blood on which the victim had been found, a whole set of knives which were possible murder weapons, she would have to check everything for fibers and match them to the bloody shirt found on the scene, and try to find out whether it belonged to Robert or his killer. That put quite a damper on her good mood.

Luckily Stella was being rather inquisitive moods.

"Why was this drug case such a high profile case, boss?" she wondered.

"Forty years ago drugs weren't as common as they are these days, if that's the right way of saying it," Grace answered in Boyd's place. "The government had only just started to target those buying and selling the stuff. And Robert was only fifteen when he bought the drugs from Patrick's father, Edward. He was the key witness in the trial that sent Edward to prison for ten years, the young, innocent and ashamed boy who had been lured into doing drugs by this evil man."

"So you can imagine the press jumping on this like dogs on a bone," Boyd continued the story. "There were articles in newspapers, letters were sent to the man and his son, telling the boy what a terrible man his father was. We'll have to look into that, too. Maybe one of those people decided this had been going on long enough and took matters into his or her own hands. We have to keep all options open."

He threw a tremendous pile of letters onto Spencer's desk.

"Look into all these men and women. See which of them are still alive. Don't forget their children either. If they were old enough to notice their parents' resentment towards Edward, Patrick or both, they might be behind this."

Boyd wanted to have all angles covered this time; there was no room for screw-ups.

"You and Stella can do that, Spencer," he continued. "Eve, try and give us something as soon as possible. Grace, take your time to see if there's anything else we need to know about Patrick or the murderer."

Now that they all knew what to do, everyone set to work. Stella was already reading letters. Spencer began making a list of the names of the people they came across and who needed to be checked out. Eve left, carrying as much of the evidence out as she possibly could, though she would have to make the trip a couple of times.

"Stella, if you're done reading some of those letters, could you give them to me? I might be able to derive some underlying meaning from them that could be useful for us," Grace asked the youngest team member.

"Excellent idea, Grace. In the mean while I'll be go over the old case files from Edward's case and see if anything helpful is in there. And I'll try to get my hands on Patrick's files. I'll compare all of these and see what I can come up with," Boyd said.

"You might want to let me search for his file; I'm a profiler, it'll look less suspicious when I ask them than it would when you would enquire about them. And I worked with him when he was brought into prison, so I have access to them. You don't, unless you're lucky and they hand them to you without asking questions."

Boyd agreed. Normally he would dismissed that final remark and would have persisted until he had found what he was looking for. Yet he had no intention of getting into a fight with the profiler. And he had to admit she was right.

He made his way to his office, throwing the door shut the moment he had gotten inside. Pleased with himself despite the situation, he now saw there were only four unfinished reports laying on his desk. He could tend to them later, concentrating on the more pressing matter of reading through old and incomplete case files first.

He had never particularly liked this part of his job. Evidence that had been completely disregarded, witness reports that had been largely made up and that had never been thoroughly investigated were not uncommon when they came across a case like this. That made the entire investigation even more difficult, as they had very little to go on. It was like conduction the first investigation of a case, only the physical evidence had already deteriorated immensely and memories had long since been forgotten. And in this case, many people would have passed away already. Edward Brown had been eighty when he passed away last year.

The ancient smell of discolored leaves entered his nostrils. Suppressing the urge to sneeze, he flicked through the pages for a few seconds before settling on what he believed to be the most promising one he was going to encounter for the next three hours: an at first glance detailed and meticulously investigated witness report in which an anonymous tipster claimed to have seen Robert leave the alley where Edward was known to deal, stuffing a rather large package of an unidentified white substance in his pocket as he went.

There were two more of these, although they were less accurate to say the least. But they could come in handy. Boyd decided to compare them to one another, so he could see whether they were alike in enough ways to be of any use. If it had anything to do with Patrick being related to a drug seller, there was a small chance their perpetrator would pop up in here somewhere. Especially if he had been somehow involved in that night's events. Maybe Edward had threatened to it had been he or she who had sold the drugs to the minor? Or maybe that person had been the go-between and Edward had threatened to sell him out to get a lighter punishment? With this kind of people, everything was possible.

The following quarter was spent reading and drawing up parallels between the statements the three witnesses had given to the police. Not one mentioned anyone else than Robert. However, he had not yet finished.

Suddenly there was a soft knock on his door. Grace was standing in front of it, holding some letters Spencer had just given her and a rather large, brown binder with the words _Patrick Brown_ on the front.

"I managed to persuade them to give me these," she said whilst laying it down. "Those are the notes I made during his sessions with me in prison and the discoveries made by his current prison psychiatrist. As you can see, they're quite extended."

"Does that mean he's a huge trouble maker or that they believe him to be one?" he demanded the profiler.

"Most of that are transcripts from conversations he had with his prison psychologist after getting involved in fights, apart from the first one, which is his conversation with me the day he entered the facility. Two of the aforementioned transcripts speak of two attacks on different female guards. He ended up in isolation for that. But nobody got severally hurt during any of these… encounters." Grace told him.

Boyd contemplated this for a second. He was well aware of the violent tendencies this man occasionally displayed. Thus he was barely surprised to receive this information. Yet there was something bothering him about the fact no-one had gotten 'severally hurt', as Grace had put it.

"Why do you think that is?"

"Lack of time, I suppose," Grace answered his question, thoughtfully. "Five or six prison guards walking around, other detainees who were in favor of the one he was attacking, an opponent who was too strong… he would have had to act quickly to give his victims more than a black eye. And he must have feared the punishment that was no doubt waiting for him. That might have made it seem less than worthwhile."

Boyd admitted that all sounded very good. Especially the last part. Because he knew this man was a little shit with no backbone. So he told Grace that. And he immediately added a question, since he knew she'd been holding back in front of the team earlier.

"Do you think it might have been someone else? Maybe a teenager making his way home after a night out with one too many to drink and who ended up around the alley and saw something he shouldn't have seen? Maybe that person took matters into his own hands now, possibly because he felt Robert deserved it?"

As soon as the words had left his mouth, doctor Foley shook her head, determination written all over her face.

"No, Boyd… At first I was worried I was too involved to give you a good profile of the murderer, maybe hoping it was Patrick to get him back behind bars. But the more I think of it, the more certain I'm becoming: it was him who killed Robert McGrey."

The words lingered in the air. The DSI wasn't at all happy with them, though he knew them to be true. He'd just hoped they weren't. He did not want Grace to have to talk to this guy.

"These letters have led me nowhere, before I forget," she now said. She was trying to change the subject, he was sure. "They all seem to have been written by different men and women of all ages, for obvious reasons."

He breathed out, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

"Let's hope the others can give us something to nail this bastard by then," he said. "With all that evidence and tons of names to research, we should be able to get something on him."

"We should," Grace conceded. "His anxiety will have made him vulnerable, prone to make mistakes. And some of those stab wounds might have resulted in injuries on his own hand or even upper torso, given the state of mind he must have been in. Eve'll pull his DNA if he cut himself."

Boyd wasn't sure whether she was trying to convince him of that, or rather herself. He did not show her that, though.

"That's definitely a possibility," he told her. "Certainly if you're sure he's behind it. Are you, though? A hundred percent sure it's him we're looking for?"

"I am. Just don't trust me blindly on this on. For once I'm asking you not to give psychological and physical evidence the same chances. I'm asking you to with the physical side of thing and use my profile as an extra," she pleaded.

"I always trust you blindly, Grace. In everything you do," he whispered.

If by any chance he would have looked up, he would have seen the glint of shock and something else in Grace's eyes. As it was, it merely passed him by unnoticed.

"Thank you so much, Peter."

He looked up at that. She hardly ever used his given name, unless she demanded his attention or she was letting her guard down. The latter was most likely what she was doing.

The moment between them passed. Grace averted her gaze, while Boyd glared out of the window behind him, acting as if something outside had drawn his attention.

"I'd better be going," she stated. "There'll be a new pile of letters waiting for me by now, ready to be checked."

Boyd waved his hand, indicating he needed nothing more from her and she could go now.

Around lunchtime his witness reports were done, his conclusion being that only one of them spoke of an unidentified white male in his early twenties that had been hanging around the alley entrance. The witness claimed this person was also a regular of Edward's, which made Boyd doubt the validity of the statement.

The 'children' were apparently out to eat today. The cluttered desktops they had left behind suggested more of people leaving in hurried flight than of a man and a woman going out for lunch to return later to pursue their work in orderly fashion.

But a quarter later, he was proven wrong. Not all of them had left.

Eve suddenly appeared in his doorway, her hair pretty messed up, one side of her face covered in a black dust-like substance and her left hand looking rather red.

"What's up, Eve?"

Boyd thought it would be best not to ask her how she had gotten into this state. She seemed to have suffered more than enough.

His colleague continued to wipe her hand with a cloth drenched in cold water whilst addressing him.

"The blanket covered in blood those investigators pulled from the bed at the scene is in a poor condition..."

Before she could in on, her boss had already opened his mouth.

"Tell me you can do something, anything with it, Eve!"

"So far no luck... The DNA wasn't preserved as it should have been. The blanket was manually cleaned, and a lot of the DNA was partially destroyed. On other parts of the blanket whole strands of DNA were rendered useless because some type of pure acid was poured over it... But I'm running a possible sample as we speak. By the end of the afternoon I should be able to tell you whether it's Robert's or somebody else's. If I can do anything with it, that is."

He praised her achievement. He was glad she was doing her job. He couldn't ask for more.

"Oh, and I have been doing other things while the sample has been running,' she told him. "I've digitalized the measurements of the six knives they found in that kitchen block. Three of them have come out as being the possible murder weapons. I've swabbed them for blood, and two came up positive. I'm going out for lunch now, but when I get back I'll test them for epithelials. That should give me something more to work with if the blood isn't good enough."

"Eve, I love you."

"Well, we don't hear that very often, do we? You haven't by any chance eaten anything wrong this morning, have you?"

"Eve, I still love you, but I might not anymore if you stay much longer," he warned her.

Calm returned when Eve had left. Boyd stretched his legs; he wasn't in the mood for going out to grab lunch.

So he made his way to the ground floor and crossed the street to the small store in front of the CCHQ. He bought himself a plastic-wrapped sandwich with chicken and a small bottle of water to drink. Not that either one of them seemed that alluring, they'd probably both taste like plastic, but he thought they would do. And he had to eat anyway.

After having paid, he walked back. In the seclusion of his office, or what he sometimes called his private quarters at work, he quietly enjoyed his food. If enjoying was the right word, of course. He wasn't bothered by it, though, as he was too caught up in their current case, too caught up with Grace.

Maybe he had judged her wrong, he mused. He had know her for a long time, he had seen how strong and independent she was. So why wouldn't she be able to deal with this? Yet she'd asked him to give the physical evidence a head start and to ignore her profile, instead of practically pleading with them to put them on equal foot. He found it frustrating, not knowing what was going on in her mind. And admitting that, even to himself, was difficult.

_You're going soft with old age_, he pestered himself. _Gruff DSI Boyd, it's okay to worry about your team_ –Grace- _just don't let it get in the way of what you have to do. You won't get the answers you need if you let yourself be blinded._

By the end of that evening, Eve explained to him and the others that due to cross contamination and deterioration of the DNA she had not been able to get a match to the DNA sample. The results of the second one were supposed to be in tomorrow, but she told them not to get their hopes up. And she was planning on running some test on the fibers she had collected the next day as well.

Stella and Spencer had better news. They had finished three quarters of the letters. They could now split the work, one of them reading the remaining letters and the other one focusing completely on the people who had written them. That would make it easier, and quicker.

Grace added there was barely a chance those letters would be useful. She would look into the last ones to be sure, but thought it would be a waste of time. And she told them that she had not anything else that might help.

The only thing keeping Boyd from grabbing the bottle that evening as he sat home alone, was the knowledge they had at least accomplished something. Even if it was hardly more than anything.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Chapter three has been added! I hope you'll all enjoy it, it was really fun to write. A bit harder at times, but fun. And it explains a good bit more about what happened to our dear Grace all those years ago! Let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of this, I'm afraid... I'm only borrowing!**

**Chapter three**

Grace woke up to the sound of her cell phone ringing. With her eyes still closed and inwardly groaning she lifted a heavy arm to reach for it. Sleepy as she was, it took her a few seconds to find it.

"Doctor Grace Foley," she said.

"I've covered for you, saying you had to do something for me before coming in for work. Since you're an hour late I don't think they'll be buying that crap much longer, so you'd better get your ass in here within the next half an hour," Boyd's voice sounded from the other side of the line.

She now sat bold upright. Her alarm clock read eight fifty; Boyd was not joking. She kicked the covers away.

"I'll be there," she promised him. "What exactly have you told them I was doing for you?"

She needed to know that in case they started asking questions when they saw her.

"Nothing detailed, just what I've told you," he answered. "Why? Do you want to come up with matching stories?"

She understood he was only being funny to try to let her know this wasn't such a big deal. She laughed at his comment. It was nice to be teased once in a while. Especially in times like these.

"Yes, please! Tell them you wanted me to drive by Patrick's house this morning to see whether he was there. Say I told you he would probably lay low to avoid drawing attention to himself, and you wanted to know if I was right," she invented quickly.

"Sure," Boyd agreed.

Grace was, in the mean time, trying to get into her clothes. Using one hand of course made it harder, but so far she had been successful. And she couldn't afford to waste time by waiting until Boyd hung up. Not that she really wanted him to anyway. Luckily she had been sensible enough to take a bath last night, else she would've had to worry about doing that, too.

Finally she was almost finished. The only thing left to do, was button up her blouse. An impossible task if she was unable to use both of her hands. So she told Boyd to hang up so she could finish up.

"Have you got your head completely elsewhere with me calling, doctor Foley? Do you need me to come and help you?" he asked playfully.

"_Bye_, Boyd!"

Passing by the kitchen table she snatched up her car keys and purse. Glad to find she had only lost fifteen minutes getting ready, she shut the door behind her, got into her car and began mentally preparing for the day ahead.

Turning into the street towards the CCHQ, she did something she had never done before. She turned around and parked her car at walking distance from the building. She had no idea why she did it, yet she did not want to use her normal parking spot.

It was raining. Making her way through the street, she waved at some agents who she recognized, but whose names were unknown to her. The grey curtain that was falling was the reason they kept on walking without engaging in conversation. And that suited her just fine.

She reached her destination without any more of such encounters. She entered the building on automatic pilot, her feet carrying her where she ought to be. Luckily nobody was paying attention. She was convinced it had to be quite obvious she was only physically there, and she wanted to avoid this being noticed. She was glad to find her route upstairs was not blocked by any hurdles.

As soon as she came into CCU she saw the man she desperately wanted to talk to. The man who would surely say something that would drag her back to the present, even if he didn't know that himself. Peter Boyd was, as always, hiding in his office.

"Hi, Grace!" Stella suddenly said brightly.

"Good morning," Grace greeted her, trying to sound as casual as she possibly could under the circumstances.

"Any luck with Boyd's idea?" the DS demanded.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Patrick is indeed hiding, which strengthens my believe we will in due course discover he is our murderer."

At that moment Spencer walked in, making Stella focus her attention on him. Grace took her chance and started making her way to Boyd's office, making sure not to walk too quickly or look suspicious. She did not want to have to go through the same thing twice.

She pushed the door open without knocking.

"Boyd, can I have a word with you?" she asked as soon as she was inside.

"Why?" was the question he directed back at her.

"Because I wanted to thank you for calling me this morning. I didn't really get a good night's sleep and I didn't hear my alarm go off," she explained.

She conveniently replaced _I barely slept for three hours_ by _I didn't really get a good night's sleep_. She did not want Boyd to become more worried than he already was. She felt guilty that he was hurting because she was. She just wanted this misery to come to an end.

"You'd better be thanking me! You've never been late in all the years you've worked here, imaging what the effect must have been!"

If it hadn't been for the knowledge he was only doing his best to act normally around her, she would have been angry with him. Most people would have been. But she knew him better, so she just let it pass her by. She was even glad he did this. It made him the one constant in her life she could always count on. The one who knew everything about her, yet did not treat her any differently for it.

"Well then, thank you! I wish I had some more time to chat, but I only got here just in time for my meeting with Henry Mole, Patrick's prison psychologist," Grace said.

"Do you mean a tall, dark haired, rather young man with way too much energy for his own good?" Boyd wanted to know.

"That's how you would describe him, I guess," she answered, smiling at his description.

"He already passed by a couple of minutes ago. He went to get himself a cup of coffee before going to your office to wait for you," Boyd informed the profiler.

And at that she left. Henry had agreed to come over quickly to answer a couple of questions before he had to go in for work. She shouldn't keep him waiting any longer than necessary, he had a job to do as well.

They shook hand when she came in.

"Thank you for being here, Henry," she began as soon as they were both seated. "I promise this won't take long."

"It's nothing, really. Anything I can do to help. You seem to understand just how dangerous Mister Brown is, and that doesn't happen a lot," Henry said.

She nodded in agreement, but did not verbally respond to his last remark. Instead, she steered the conversation into another direction by using it to her advantage.

"What do you mean by that?"

"He has mastered the art of telling those he wants to harm just what they want to hear. That's how he gains enough of their trust to get close enough to strike when his time has come."

At least it was an opening she could work with.

"Are you talking about the incidents involving those female guards, or the fights in general?" she inquired.

"All of them," he revealed. "He lets them believe they're superior to him, only to work his way up to being their equal. Soon, the others forget they were verbally or physically assaulting him upon his arrival in prison, or at least some time before. When they least expect it, Patrick attacks them in order to get his revenge," Henry said.

Grace had been expecting that. After all, this man was no stranger to her. Therefore she altered her questions somewhat, so she might discover something new.

"Apart from his aggression towards fellow inmates, did you notice anything strange or unusual about him?" Grace asked.

"Most of his fights were the same, if that's what you're asking. Payback for the way he'd been treated, all male victims and no remorse whatsoever. But with those guards, it was different," Henry mused.

"Different in what way?" Grace felt her throat go dry and constrict.

"They were the one who got away with mere bruises, despite the fact he seemed to have completely lost control and he acted most violently around them. And when he was taken to a separate cell to cool down, he kept saying he was sorry and that he wasn't supposed to have done that," Henry recalled.

Grace fought hard not to be dragged back into the past after hearing that. She made a note about it on the piece of paper lying on front of her.

"That would be all, Henry. Is it okay for me to call you if any new questions arise during our inquiry?" she asked.

"It sure is," he said, getting out of her chair and shaking her now extended hand. "My colleagues and I are always at your disposal."

She thanked the man whilst leading him out of the Unit. There was no doubt in her mind Henry was probably all too happy to leave; the atmosphere was colder than it had ever been since they had begun working the Patrick Brown-case. Nobody had said anything about it so far, but she was sure everyone had noticed it.

It wasn't hard to, if she were honest. She kept to her office unusually much, she avoided talking to Boyd (except when she had no choice, like this morning, because she needed to hear him say something) out of fear she might say something that would make him worry so much he would take his frustration out on Marianne and get himself into trouble.

Peter Boyd might not have been known as the most sensitive of man, but he stood up for his team. He protected them against the dangers this job held in any way he could. Most people, well, all people really, didn't bother looking any further than the difficult and at times aggressive man he seemed to be, and were put off by his insane work ethics. Yet Grace found his determination one of his best character trades. Though his eagerness to solve the cases they dealt with sometimes made him ask too much of his coworkers.

_Dear heavens_, _Grace Foley!_ She now reprimanded herself. _There are lots of more important things to worry about than you boss's personality!_ She could feel herself turning red, something that she had almost never done before.

She thoughtfully sank down behind her desk now, wondering why she seemed to be thinking of the man constantly as of late. She vividly remembered the conversation they had had some weeks ago, concerning them. He had asked her how they had gotten into the situation they were in, referring to the argument they had had and that had resulted in her not speaking to him for three days in a row. They had been sitting in a pub at that time, having resolved their issues mere hours ago. He had asked how it had gotten this far again.

"_I could tell you exactly how we ended up fighting again. Or why we do is so often. I could analyze this situation in my sleep," she had responded to his question, taking a sip of her glass of red wine. _

"_Yet you don't," he had stated rather obviously, looking right into her more than somewhat surprised eyes. _

She had changed the subject, even though she hadn't known why. At this time she realized he'd been right: during those days they had spent in cold war, the idea of using her profiling abilities to dissect the situation and find a solution that would suit the both of them had never crossed her mind. Did that have anything to do with the fact she had forbidden herself to read those closest to her, and Boyd being the closest? Or had it been for a different reason entirely? She began to wonder.

She had known Boyd for ten years now, having met him during one of his drinking sessions on one of the trying days she had had working in the prison system. She had volunteered to join him, understanding neither one of them should be drinking alone. By the end of the evening a fragile connection had formed that would rapidly become a bond for life. And both of them had gone home quite sober.

During the years that had followed, people had come and gone. In their personal lives as well as in the team. Mel who had died, Frankie and Felix who had left… But he had always been there. Just as she had always been there for him. They'd learned to open up in each other's company. But now more than ever Grace knew Boyd had never truly opened up. He had told her about his son, but when she had asked him not to exclude her when he went to formally identify Luke's body, he had done just that.

And she had never been truly honest either; from the first she'd stolen at him, she had known she would one day lose herself to him. Dark, unreachable, closed… Yet she had found him mysterious and intriguing. He was still intriguing, even if he no longer really was a mystery to her.

But she was roughly pulled out of her thoughts when she heard her name being shouted.

"Grace!"

Boyd apparently needed her. Glad for something to do, she got up and made her way towards the board, where Eve and he were standing.

"You called?"

"Yes, I did. Eve has something to ask. Of you as well as the others," he added almost as an afterthought whilst gesturing for Stella and Spencer to join them.

Eve waited a minute longer for the other two to get within earshot before she began speaking.

"Since we've got very little to go on," she said, "I thought you might want to be there and have a look while I examine the body fully. I know you usually aren't present when I do my thing, but maybe you guys want to make an exception this time. Especially you, Grace. It might help you with your profile."

"Euhm, no offence, but this is one of those corpses that's still got tissue on his bones, right?" Stella demanded.

When Eve nodded, she continued.

"I think I'll pass on this one; bones are more my cup of tea."

Boyd coughed, which Grace guessed to be a way to hide his laughter. He told the young woman to find something else to do in the mean time.

"You're excused then," he told her. "Find something useful to occupy yourself with while we're gone. If you need us for anything, just call."

"Will do. I'll probably be doing a background check on a certain Rose Montgomery. She was the alibi of Robert McGrey's wife. Thought we'd better rule her out so we can focus on the others. So when you come back, I'll take one of you with me and go talk to her, depending on what I find," Stella said.

Boyd told her that was a very good idea and that she should take Spencer with her when she decided to go out. He advised her to play good cop, as women trusted women more easily. But she shouldn't be afraid to play bad cop if need be, because there were still so many angles left to investigate. And he didn't want to waste any more time than absolutely necessary.

"We've got seven people who are deceased and who we don't need to look into anymore. Five other have got a solid alibi. We have gotten somewhere already, boss."

DC Goodman wanted to convince him of that, and Grace knew part of her needed that reassurance too.

"Keep doing your job," he said. "And we'll solve this. Just don't start taking your bloody time to do it, like you did on our last case."

Stella and the rest of the team cringed slightly at his words. Grace knew he had not wanted to scold at them, he only wanted to solve this case as quickly as possible. And he wanted them to work thoroughly.

After Stella had promised him to do as she had been told, Boyd started ushering the others down to the lab. Grace noticed he let everybody pass him by and then held open the door for her.

She could feel his eyes on her back. She didn't have to look around to know he was looking at her. To be honest, it made her a little nervous. She wasn't used to seeing this much of his sensitive side, and not at all at work. He had been trying to hide it from the team, and so far he had been successful. But even though it made her somewhat uncomfortable, she was flattered he cared about her this much.

They finally reached the lab. Once they were inside Eve led them to the table in the back on which the body was lying. She informed them that the remains had been formally identified as being Robert McGrey's. Pulling away the white blanket she had previously put over the body, she started talking.

"As Grace already remarked when looking at the photos, there are a lot of cuts that are rather superficial. And cuts that are very deep. Those superficial cuts appear only on the victim's back, suggesting the attack began while Robert stood facing away from the perpetrator. His chest, though, is very vehemently punctured in various places. Multiple times."

But Eve had a bombshell to drop.

"But that isn't the most important thing I discovered. Do you see those bleu-ish discolorations on his left leg and right beneath his collarbone, also on the left side?"

They all nodded.

"Those are the result of being shoved into a freezer," she told them. "At first I thought they were simply bruises he had gotten during the fight with his attacker. It wasn't until I looked at the bleu spot on the left side of his ribcage, an indication that he was left lying on it for a while, that I realized they were something else entirely."

"Was he still alive when he was frozen? I mean, what's the cause of death?" Spencer inquired.

"He was already dead when freezing set in," Eve answered. "I can't say he was dead when he was put into the freezer, though. Even after his heart stopped beating he must have bled for a while."

Grace felt herself go pale. She grabbed the table in front of her for support, hoping none of those present had noticed.

"So the stab wounds are what killed him?" Boyd wanted to know?

"One of them. I have to open him up to be a hundred percent sure, but anyway. He was killed by a stab wound to the chest…"

"… just underneath the heart that punctured the aorta where it leaves the heart," Grace said, loud enough to be heard but only just.

"Yeah, how did you…" Eve began.

But Grace had already turned on her heels and left the room. She was physically sick. She couldn't believe she hadn't seen this coming. The despise and anger she felt for herself made her want to slam her fist into the wall.

She almost bumped into Stella, who was on her way down, but she did not stop to say sorry. She practically ran to her office, grabbed her coat and stormed out of CCHQ. If she didn't leave, she would only be sick, she would be kicking and screaming in utter agony because of the mistakes she had made with Patrick.

In the mean time Boyd was trying to make Spencer stay behind with the two women and let him go after Grace.

"I've known her longer than all of you. And I dare say I know her better than all of you. Trust me on this one, okay? Don't be so bloody hardheaded and let me go, Spence," Boyd said.

The others were taken aback by his tone: anger and concern clouded his normally in control voice. They could see the fear in his eyes.

Boyd shrugged off his lab coat, letting it fall to the floor without glancing at it a second time while he hurried from the room. He needed to find Grace, and he needed to find her now! He was such an idiot! He should have made her stay in her office, he had known what effect this would have on her!

Luckily he had some idea where she would be going. It wasn't a very long walk, one could get there in ten to fifteen minutes. But he decided to take the car anyway. She had a ten minute head start because of what had happened in the lab, so she was probably already there.

Grace was sitting on the cold, wet ground, overlooking the grey surface of the small lake in front of her. It had been quite a while since she had last been here. Twenty-five years to be exact. Right after her ordeal with Patrick. Now he was in her life again, and she found herself returning to the one place where she'd been able to deal with it all. In the back of her mind she bitterly realized she didn't even remember how she had stumbled across this lake.

Suddenly she heard a rustle. Without looking up she knew who it would be. So she remained immobile on the ground, continuing to hug her knees.

Boyd sat down beside her. He made sure not to answer her personal space, as he wasn't certain she would appreciate him coming that close now. The silence between the pair lingered on, until Grace finally took a quivering breath and broke it.

"I should have known this," she almost inaudibly said.

"You couldn't have…"

"Yes, I could've! He told me," she could barely bring herself to say the words, and she kept looking away from him.

Boyd was shocked but kept it hidden. Not once had she told him this. He doubted he wanted to hear more. Yet she needed him to listen, so he did.

"It was after a session. The guard was waiting outside, the tape recorder had been cleared away. Suddenly he told me he had had a dream that had made him very frightened. I asked him whether he wanted to talk about it, seeing he was in distress. I counseled him further. Without recording any of it."

She took a few moments to compose herself before going on with her story.

"He said he'd dreamed about stabbing a detainee who had beaten him up severely two days after his arrival in prison, killing him with a stab right underneath the heart that punctured the man's aorta where it leaves the heart. He'd watched him bleed out and had then put him into a freezer…"

Tears were pouring down her cheeks now. Boyd brushed them away with his thumb, cupping her face in both of his hands and forcing her to look at him.

"Oh, Gracie Grace…" he softly said.

That was her undoing. She started to sob even harder, her whole body shaking. She let her head fall against his chest, her hands fisted themselves around the fabric of his shirt. She clung to it as if it were her lifeline, never wanting to let go.

The feeling of his strong, masculine hands caressing her back, his tender arms around her trembling form made her feel safe. It gave her hope after she had believed she had stuffed up so bad that all hope was gone. As long as he was there, she was going to be alright again.

He pushed her at arm's length.

"It's time to head back," Boyd whispered.

"I don't want to," she replied like a child. He felt the pressure of her finger enlarge by the prospect of having to return.

She shivered. When Boyd made to touch one of her hands, he realized she had to be freezing. So he shrugged of his jacket, not letting go of the woman in his arms with more than one hand at a time.

Grace gratefully accepted the offer to drape it around her shoulders normally she would have made some comment about chivalry not having disappeared from the world after all, but today she was too tired and drained.

"Then why don't you go home?" Boyd suggested.

She barely registered what he said. Looking down at herself, however, it did not take her long to take him up on that offer as soon as she understood the meaning of what he had said. There were grass stains on her skirt, both on the front and the back. She realized she must look quite a mess, having cried, being all stained and wet.

"But my stuff…"

"We'll pick it up. Then I'll drive you home. Leave it to the team for the rest of the day," he advised her.

"I'd rather drive home myself, if you don't mind," she told him.

He studied her quietly for a moment. There was something about her he had never seen before.

Eventually he gave in, knowing she needed nothing more than to convince herself that she was strong enough to do this. That she was in charge of the situation.

He drove them both back to the CCHQ. After having made sure she'd be fine, Boyd ran to the CCU. Pushing open the door to the unit, he ignored the questioning looks the others gave him and grabbed Grace's purse.

"Boss, what…" Spencer began.

"Grace is going home. No questions when she comes back tomorrow, understood?"

"Yes, sir!" came the reply in chorus.

Grace managed a weak smile when Boyd reappeared, holding her purse. She knew she hadn't been able to face the 'children'. Not yet, at least.

"Thank you. For everything," she said.

"You're more than welcome, Grace. Now, go home. Try to get some sleep. Things might not look so bad anymore when you wake up tomorrow," he softly said.

Watching him return to the CCU, she thought she might just do that. Boyd was right, after all. Tomorrow would be a new day.

But deep down she couldn't shake the feeling the problems she'd be facing wouldn't have changed at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Ladies and Gentlemen, the fourth chapter is finally up! I wanted to use this opportunity to thank all of you who have written my story so far, and even more so those of you who have reviewed! You really warmed my heart! This chapter gives you a look into Boyd's mind. And, of course, the events in this chapter lead to something interesting happening in the next one! Please let me know what you think of it!**

**Disclaimer: I will, unfortunately, never own Waking the Dead.  
**

**Chapter Four  
**

"Damned, Eve, just tell me you've found something!" Boyd yelled.

He was getting fed up with this. It was the second day since Grace had left work early. The fifth day of their investigation. And still they were getting nowhere. All leads they'd had, had lead to dead ends.

If Boyd were completely honest, he was angry at everything and everyone right now. He wanted it all to and. For Grace's sake. Because even though she kept it hidden very well, he had seen the troubled look that clouded her eyes when she thought nobody noticed.

"Alright, alright! As a matter of fact I did find out something," the forensic pathologist said.

He decided to show her some respect by listening to her without constantly interrupting her for a change. He knew how much he hated it when somebody else did it to him. So he silently gestured for her to continue.

"I discovered two of those knives from that kitchen block were indeed our murder weapons. I am going to try to get some epithelials from the small cracks in the hilt, but my guess is I won't be able to get enough to get a DNA profile, if I am able to pull any at all..."

Boyd was not too pleased to discover that. If Eve had been sure she would be able to get DNA from the knives they might have found a reason to bring Patrick in by that afternoon. As it was, they would just have to wait and see. This might be another one of those dead ends, however hard is was to admit that.

"But that isn't all, you know," Eve informed him quickly.

The DSI was glad to hear her say that. And he knew she must have seen the angry look he had had on his face until a second ago. So he decided to make an extra effort, hoping this would be worth it.

"I found a hair on the inside of the shirt that was found at the crime scene. And another one on our victim. Color and length suggest they come from the same source. Which, by looking at the same two criteria, I can tell you is not Robert McGrey."

That was a piece of information he had not been expecting to get. But it did raise new questions.

"And where does that leave us?" Boyd wanted to know.

He wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible. The only way to keep himself from hurting the others was keeping as far away from them as was humanly possible whilst working together. So he wanted to get Eve at a safe distance before his temper started running short again.

"If I can connect the hair to a name from the database we have a first suspect to interview," Eve said. "And because we all believe Robert McGrey to have been murdered by Patrick Brown, I thought you might want me to compare the DNA profile from the hairs to his first."

He was amazed she was willing to do this. He had left the team with virtually no other option than Patrick being their murderer. They had every right to demand an explanation. He had given them every reason to question his reasons or question him about the knowledge he had that they did not. Yet they had not done any of that.

It was wonderful how much everyone on the team valued each other. And how unshakable their believe in one another was. Even in him, despite the fact he had displayed his rudeness or difficultness on so many occasions they must have lost count by now.

"I sure hope you'll be able to give us a name… I'm sorry to be putting this much pressure on you, but you're the only chance we have at catching this guy," Boyd spoke.

Eve looked at him worriedly. She had never seen him like this, so vulnerable and scared. And she had no idea what had brought about this change in him.

But she didn't show him that she had noticed anything. He wouldn't want her to know, it would only make him more angry.

"I know. And I'll do the best I can," she promised him.

He gestured for her to leave. Although he wasn't exactly mister nice guys she did not want to leave him alone in the state he was in. but she knew she had to if she wanted to prevent things from getting worse.

"Bye," she said before walking through the door.

On his own again after Eve had gone, with nothing to distract him anymore, Boyd's mind settled back onto the one thing that was important in this case, which was, of course, Grace.

He had hoped their little talk two days ago would have made her see that he would be there for her when she needed him to. That he would listen to her and offer her a shoulder to cry on if she asked him to. But so far she had remained just as withdrawn as before. She still seemed to be avoiding him from time to time. And he was certain there was something she wasn't telling him.

Not that he had never kept a secret from her, far from it even… But this was the first time _she_ was doing it to _him_. And he was unsure how to react. Was he supposed to tell her he knew she was holding something back? Or was he supposed to ignore it and do nothing? Both options did not look in the least appealing.

Boyd knew Grace needed him to be the strong one for a change. In all those years they had known each other, she had kept him sane. She had kept him on the straight and narrow. She had kept him strong, had given him all the strength he needed. She had kept him in control. And now he would do the same for her. Or he would at least try to.

Yet he had no idea how. She did come to him a little more often again, but not yet like the way she had before. And he was clueless as to how to start a conversation about the part of her past with Patrick he knew nothing about. What if he opened his mouth and he blurted out something totally inappropriate? What if he said something wrong and pushed her away from him again?

He had never been good with words. Let alone feelings. Every time he tried to say something sensitive, he ended up screwing it all up again. And he was too scared to lose Grace to allow himself to take that risk.

Because even though he hardly ever verbally gave her credit for the work she did, he valued her input, her intelligence and her commitment. He valued _her_. She was the only one who didn't feel obliged to agree with him on everything he said. She was the only one who was always truly honest with him. And though he would never say it out loud, he loved her for it.

Boyd was slightly shocked he had just admitted that, even if it was to no-one else but himself. But it was true. From the moment she had walked up to him in that pub ten years ago, he had loved her. The way she lit up a room when she walked in. Her bright personality. Her bravery. Everything about her was just perfect.

"Dam you, Boyd!" he grunted to himself. "Why do you always have to have the things that are out of your league?"

It was a question he'd been asking himself over and over again for the past three days, and to which he sadly enough had no answer.

"I suppose you just like tormenting yourself," he chastised himself. "You know she could never love you back, yet every day you wake up hoping today will be the day she confesses to you she does!"

Yet even after he'd scolded himself about this for the thousandth time, he couldn't help the daydreams beginning to play in front of his eyes when he sat back in his chair. Not that he was a man to daydream, but every now and then, it made a nice change.

Loving her was something he just couldn't help, he decided. And to be honest he wouldn't want to help it either. She made him feel like a better man by merely being around him. He owed her so much. Yet she never asked for anything in return. She was the most amazing woman he had ever known.

And with that thought, the hours passed by a little more quickly in between daydreaming and doing some of his paperwork.

Midday soon came and went. But he didn't really care anymore. As long as they were getting closer to finding a solution to their problems, he could afford to keep on dreaming a little longer.

But he made sure not to lose track of time, either. He allowed himself half an hour of escaping from reality before returning to it, and to him that was perfect. After all, he would get in trouble with Marianne if his files were late for the tenth time in a row, he was sure of it.

Suddenly there was a soft knock on the door. When he looked up, he saw Eve standing in the doorway.

"Patrick Brown's DNA is a match to the DNA I managed to pull from the hairs. You have a reason to bring him in for questioning now," she smiled at him.

Boyd's attitude immediately changed. He all but jumped from his chair whilst pushing all the papers in front of him aside. He was obviously very pleased with the outcome the test had had.

"Thank you," he said.

And he meant it. Things were looking bright for the first time in days and he was in a better mood instantly.

Eve was glad to see him relax a little and she was happy he was going after Patrick with a vengeance. She had the feeling things would turn normal again as soon as this case had been solved.

He made his way to the bullpen, trying to decide who he would be taking with him. He figured a man would be a better choice.

"Spence, come with me. We are going to pick Patrick up and take him for a ride," Boyd said.

Spencer nodded and grabbed his jacket. But when he turned around again to ask who would be driving, he discovered his boss already had his back on him.

Boyd pushed the door towards Grace's office open. She was busy trying to get one of her binders to go into the right place. And as far as he could tell she was not being very successful.

"Grace, do you have a minute?" he asked.

"Don't I always?" she asked him in an attempt to keep the atmosphere light.

She was still trying to push the binder unto the shelve, but to no avail. She crushed a stray strand of her short, dark blond hair behind her far while he tried to chose between going in or blunting it out right there and then.

He walked further in and took a seat on her couch. He stared at his hands for a few seconds before he found the courage to start speaking.

"Eve matched two DNA samples found at the crime scene to Patrick. Spencer and I are going to drive up to his house and bring him in," he eventually said.

He took a deep breath before continuing.

"I want you to know I'd prefer you to stay here. I know life hasn't been fair on you lately, this case hasn't been easy on you, so I'd really like you to stay in with Stella and let us do the work on this one. And I also came here because I wanted to know whether you have any advice for us that will make getting Patrick here any easier," he told her.

Grace turned towards him now, all thoughts about the binder forgotten.

"Thank you. I don't think I'd be able to do this... And it's probably a lot safer if I stay here. I can use it to our advantage when I come into the interview room to talk to him. The idea I have got anything to do with you guys won't even enter his mind. As for your question...'"

She thought about his aforementioned question for a few minutes longer before answering it.

"Give him the feeling he's superior to you. But don't let him control the situation, not ever. Tell him you've found a body and you need his help to catch the killer since he managed to evade the police for so long after he had killed his mother, tell him you can't find the murderer on your own. That way you'll gain enough of his trust to get him here without too much trouble. But whatever you do, don't let him surprise you in any way," she finally said.

That all sounded easy enough to do. But Boyd had the fleeting impression it would all be harder than anticipated when they confronted Patrick. He did not let her see he doubted this was going to work, though. The gratitude he had seen in her eyes upon hearing she didn't have to come was something he couldn't smash.

"Perfect. Okay, I'll send Stella to come and get you when we arrive here with Patrick. You can work your magic then," he promised.

"I hope I'll be able to _work my magic_, as you put it, Boyd! The man isn't at all prone to human kindness, as you undoubtedly know," she voiced her anxiety to make a mistake.

"I'm sure things will be fine in the end," he tried to calm her down. "And this'll all be over soon. In about an hour we'll be back, and within two hour that little shit will be back where he belongs, behind bars."

It was as much of an attempt to persuade her of this as it was to persuade himself this was the truth.

They said their goodbyes and Spencer and Boyd made their way to the car park. The DSI let Spencer drive. It would give him the time he needed to distance himself from this suspect enough not to smash his face in for what he had done to Grace when they finally met.

And thus the ride was very quiet and uneventful. His colleague would occasionally look his way to see whether he was alright, but not one word was spoken between the two of them.

When they entered the street in which Patrick lived, Boyd suddenly got a really strange feeling. He became nervous and began looking to both sides of the road, even though he had no idea what he was looking for.

"We're nearly there," Spencer said when Patrick's house came into view. "Do you want to park in his driveway or would it be safer to leave the car here?"

"Park the car here. We don't want to scare the hell out of him before we get him into an interview room."

Spencer agreed. Every precaution should be taken to prevent Patrick from finding out what they were really there for.

They had a couple of meters left to walk. Boyd couldn't suppress the urge to see whether his gun was close enough at hand to use when Brown proved himself to be a threat to either him or his DI.

"Remember, we're not officially arresting him until we get back at CCHQ. Don't threaten him, don't scare him," he reminded the younger man.

Spencer nodded and rang the bell. The cold wind blew around them while they waited for Brown to open the door.

But no reaction came. To Boyd, the silence was deafening. Even Spencer appeared more nervous than he had been during the drive up here. As if he knew something was wrong as well.

There was no time to lose. That Boyd knew. They needed a plan and they needed it right now. Because this might be their only chance to catch this bastard.

"Knock for me, please, Spencer. If he doesn't open the door then, we'll force our way in if we have to," Boyd said.

Spencer did as he was told. The echoing sound they could hear inside the house had a frightening tone to it. Boyd did his best to keep the fear gripping at his heart at bay, but he barely succeeded.

The few minutes that passed might as well have been hours. But neither of them would ever admit that.

"Can you push the door open or do we have no other way in than to kick it in?" Boyd wanted to know.

"Apparently we were invited," Spencer answered when the door swung open after he had pushed it lightly.

Upon entering the premises, they noticed there were only two doors leading away from the hallway. Boyd drew his gun, motioning for his companion to do the same. With a nod of his head he directed Spencer to the door farthest away. He would take the first one.

It turned out to be the kitchen. And no-one was there.

"This one's empty!" Spencer called over his shoulder half a minute later.

"Mine is, too," Boyd informed him, taking a closer look at the room.

It was extremely neat. There was almost no indication someone lived there, except for a dinner plate with some leftovers that was standing next to the sink. By the looks of it, it was at least two days old.

Grace had told him this man was so structured and neat he would seem to be suffering from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. And she seemed to have gotten it right, as always. Would he have left the food there without any reason then? Boyd didn't believe so.

Back in the hallway he waited for Spencer to reappear.

"I think we might discover he isn't here anymore," Boyd told him.

"Maybe he's just hiding upstairs. But I think you're right... Unfortunately."

They had to make sure, though. So they climbed the stairs in search of the man they believed was no longer there.

Boyd motioned for Spencer to have a look in the bathroom while he went on to investigate the bedroom. It revealed the same as the kitchen had. The bed was made up, but had not been slept in that might as far as he could tell. There were on clothes in the wardrobe anymore.

"The only things I found in the bathroom were a piece of soap and a bottle of shampoo. The towel was as dry as it possibly could have been," Spencer told him when he came out of the room.

Boyd had to suppress a scream. They had blown it... And he had to be the one to tell Grace.

"Let's go. There's nothing we can do here anymore. We'll get Eve in here so she can have a look at the place and maybe tell us something about the way he left or where he might have gone."

When they arrived at the CCU, Spencer immediately went to the lad to find Eve. Boyd crossed the space between the door and Grace's office to tell her what had happened.

He was angry and disappointed with himself. Even though he knew he couldn't possibly have changed anything, he felt as if it was all his fault.

He knocked and waited for her to give him permission to enter.

"Grace?"

"I thought you were going to send Stella in when you came back with Patrick," she said.

Her desk was littered with tens of papers. One side had a small space free of any clutter, but the rest of the top was completely invisible.

He cleared his throat.

"We haven't brought him in," he said, so softly he was sure she had almost missed it.

"Wha... What..." she incoherently said.

"When we arrived, the place was empty. It looks like he hasn't been there in days, most of his belongings have gone. We're asking Eve to in there so she might shed some light on the how and when, or where he might have gone to. I'm really sorry, Grace," he spoke.

She sank down on her couch.

"Could you please leave?" she asked him. "I need a little time alone."

Her voice was stronger than he had expected it to be. But he heard the unshed tears in it non-the-less. He had no choice but to leave, though.

"If you need me, I'll be there," Boyd said before leaving.

He couldn't help but stare at her through the windows. His heart broke as he watched her lay her face in her hands, most likely because she didn't want the others to see she was crying.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Chapter five already! This is really starting to pick up, isn't it? Well, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Finally the action you have all been waiting for, Boyd/Grace all the way through! Please let me know whether you liked it! And even if you didn't, of course. A big thank yoy to all of my faithful reader who have reviewed so far! I love all of you so much!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Waking the Dead...**

**Chapter Five**

It was passed midnight.

Grace was sitting in her living room. She was looking around nervously. Every shadow reminded her of Patrick. Every sound made her jump in fear it might be him. She was too scared to close her curtains, she didn't want him to catch her unprepared if he came looking for her. Every light in the room was on. She could still remember everything that had happed all those years ago.

She couldn't bare sitting down as if nothing had happened anymore. The pain was too big. Her head was aching, her eyes were hurting from wiping them to prevent herself from crying so often.

But tears now started trailing a path down her cheeks anyway. She was so angry with herself. Angry that he still had such a hold over her, even after all the years that had gone by. Angry he was making her cry again. Angry for knowing he was only doing this to get her attention. Angry for being afraid of him.

Grace bit back an anguished sob threatening to escape her. Her entire body was shaking with the effort it took. She clenched her fists in despair. All of her muscles were hard and tense. Sore even. And she was just so, so very tired…

Staring out of the window to the old oak tree in her backyard, something inside her snapped. She was done being strong. She had no strength left anymore. she wanted to scream and shout. She wanted somebody to tell her things would be okay again, even if it would take time. She just wanted to be held.

But who could she turn to now her world came crumbling down for the second time in her life? None of her friends at work, apart from Boyd of all people, knew about the horrendous ordeal she had experienced thirty-five years ago. She had no family left.

That didn't stop her from grabbing her car keys, though. She desperately needed a sense of purpose, and driving would give her that.

As soon as she had turned the keys in the ignition, a warm, male voice drifted into her head.

"_If you need me, I'll be there_."

That was the answer to her previous question, she realized. He was her best friend. The one who would pick her up now she had fallen.

But doubts immediately started creeping into her mind. What would Boyd say when she suddenly appeared on his doorstep? What would his reaction be when he saw how late is was?

But he had promised to be there when she needed him to be. And through the past week he had indeed stood by her. Maybe he wasn't just saying this, but he was planning on following through with it as well.

That settled it. Whatever the consequences would be, her mind was made up. She would deal with the possible problems when they arose.

Half an hour later she found herself on Boyd's doorstep. She was shaking from cold since she had not been dressed for going out, and most likely a little from fear, too. Yet she sang the bell. She had made it this far, she could not back out now. For her own sake.

Boyd woke up when he heard the bell ring.

He swung his legs out of bed and looked at his alarm clock. One thirteen in the morning. Who could possibly be disturbing him at this time of night?

Throwing on his bathrobe for good measures, he descended the stairs to open the door. The person on the other side had better have a good explanation for turning up here at an hour as ungodly as this.

But when he saw Grace, all thoughts of an explanation disappeared from his mind. He did not need one.

She was standing there in her blue, striped pyjamas. Her eyes were red and puffy. Her face was still wet with tears.

He didn't think. Or maybe he couldn't think anymore. He put a hand on her arm to guide her in. He could feel how she flinched slightly at the initial contact.

He instinctively drew back his hand. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable. But she shook her head, wordlessly telling him this was not at all his fault.

"Come on," he whispered.

He reached out for her again, but did not touch her. This time she grabbed hold of his outstretched hand. Relief flooded through his when he saw she was not afraid of him after all.

He led her to his sitting room. He hoped she would calm down a little when she had had a few minutes to compose herself. Because it was obvious to him that she needed to talk about his, but that she was in no state of mind to do it.

Boyd installed her on his couch. She was still holding his hand tightly. And she seemed to have no intention of letting go of it any time soon. Not that he wanted her to, he just had no idea where this was going. And that frightened him just a bit.

"Grace?" he said, looking down at her.

She did not respond. She kept staring at their hands that were still firmly locked together.

"I'm going to make us a cup of tea, alright? I believe we both need it," he told her.

But he hadn't even taken two steps back when her grip on his hand tightened. She was looking right into his eyes now. He could clearly see the anxiety in her own eyes.

"I won't be far, only through that door there," he promised.

"Don't go…" she pleaded.

"I won't. I promise I'll always be here. Now, let go for a second so I can get us that tea. Then I'll be right back by your side."

She slowly nodded. She had seen the truth in his eyes as he spoke to her, and that was enough to make her feel a little more confident.

She still clung to his desperately, though, only letting go of his hand when she had to because the distance between them had grown too big.

He prayed the encouraging smile he gave her would make her feel a little more at ease.

Grace kept her eyes on Boyd the entire time he was in the kitchen. She watched his every move. She recognized so many of his little gestured, the way he held the cups whilst filling them, for example. She immediately felt safer knowing she was around someone she could trust.

"Here you go," he spoke when he entered the living room again with two steaming hot cups of tea.

"Thanks," she said.

Grace's breathing was almost back to normal by then, and she had regained control over herself somewhat.

She enjoyed the feeling of the warmth of her cup of tea, content to say nothing. It was the first normal experience she had had this last week, and she was determined to savor every minute of it.

Those good intentions did not last long, though. She needed to explain to Peter why she was here. She owed him that much. And she had to do it for herself as well.

"I'm sorry for turning up here like this," she began, looking at her hands.

"It's okay. You don't have to do this," he assured her.

"I do... Please?"

He nodded. He understood exactly how important it was for her that he knew the reason for what was happening. And it might get her to talk, which was very important under these circumstances.

"I was so scared, Peter... So scared I could hardly move... I just had to get out of there... And you were the only one I could think of to go to..."

She was a little surprised when he rose from his spot in front of her, walked over and sat himself down beside her.

He took her cup from her trembling hand and set it down on the table, doing the same with his. He covered her hand with his, giving it a small squeeze.

She knew she had been pushing him away lately, that she had not allowed for the closeness that had been so normal between them for so long. She was glad to find she had not in the least been successful.

Silence fell between them again. Yet both of them found it was not at all a cold silence, but a companionable one.

Grace realized she was still shivering from cold when Boyd suddenly extended a hand to grab the blanket draped over the chair next to the couch.

"You don't have to explain. I know what it's like to see your world come crashing down and to realize there's only one person in the whole wide world to turn to," he softly said as he put the blanket around her shoulders.

She realized he was talking about the day he had had to formally identify his son's body a little over eight months ago. She had seen what that had done to him. And she realized she had been the only one he had been able to turn to.

It was true, she had to admit. He had been in the same place she was in. He undoubtedly understood how she was feeling.

She was grateful he was being her rock now that she needed him to be, even if his life had been turned completely upside down fairly recently as well.

"How did you get through it?" she tentatively asked him.

If Boyd had not been expecting that question, he wasn't showing it. Instead, he thought about it for a few seconds before replying.

"Not that well at first, to be honest. I took my anger out on everyone around me. I hurt myself by convincing myself this was all my fault. But then you came along and talked to me. You made me see I wasn't to blame for any of it. And you told me it was no use causing myself even more pain than I already was in. So I decided to do some hands-on work. You know, talk to Mary about what kind of a child Luke had been, arrange the funeral together… If you hadn't dragged me back from the dark place I was in, I would probably still be there," he eventually said.

He could feel her hear resting against his shoulder now. Without knowing he was doing it, he snaked an arm around her and got into a slightly more comfortable position. She was not at all complaining.

"But you're not there yet?" she asked.

He intertwined their fingers, and he could feel how she moved even closer to him.

"No, Grace. I'm not there yet. I still wake up every morning hoping it will all turn out to have been nothing more than a nightmare. But Luke isn't coming back. And that's hard to admit. But I know one day I'll wake up and he won't be the first thing on my mind anymore. That I'll wake up one day and breathing won't hurt as much as it still does now. But even though that'll happen, I'll never forget him. You told me that, remember? And you were right. Everything still hurts, but one day at a time things get better," he said.

"Do you think that's what it will be like for me as well?"

Her voice was soft and childlike in her need for reassurance. Boyd rested his chin on her head.

"I think that's exactly what it'll be like for you," he told the profiler.

He noticed that by that time Grace's shoes had gone, although he could not remember when this had happened. And her feet were on the couch. It seemed she was completely at ease at last.

"Thank you," she said. "For being here. For listening."

"It was my pleasure. I know it's not a skill you'd associate with me, but surprisingly enough I _do_ know how to listen once in a while," he smiled.

Grace slapped his arm lightly. But she did not move away from him at all.

"I know you do. You just don't show it very often," she acknowledged.

Boyd silently agreed with her, and added to himself: _or to anyone_.

He could feel more and more of her weight beginning to press against him. Her breathing became more even and softer. He knew he should probably say something, but he didn't want to disturb the peaceful state she was in.

"Talk?" she asked.

"What?" he asked, oblivious.

"Talk for a while. I don't want to anymore, but I want to listen to you," she admitted.

He obliged. He spoke of days long past, days spent with his son. Of time in which the world seemed so big and everything was new. The days before either one of them had joined the police force.

Grace was silent during all the time he was speaking. Eventually she realizes he must have fallen asleep.

"Are you awake?" he wanted to know, even though he has pretty sure she wasn't.

Grace tried to stifle a yawn as she opened her eyes a little, but she failed miserably. He immediately felt sorry for waking her up.

"Come on, let's get you to bed. It's late, and it'll be an early day tomorrow," he told her.

Reluctantly she dragged herself into a sitting position. She didn't want him to let go of her, she had just been feeling so safe in his arms…

Boyd led her up the stairs and into his bedroom.

"Get comfortable. Try and get some sleep. And if anything is wrong, just give a yell, okay?"

She looked from the bed back to him, and he could see something in her eyes he couldn't name.

"Can't you stay? I wouldn't ask if… I just don't want to be alone right now," she whispered.

He nodded.

"I'll stay."

So they both settled down on the bed. Boyd was glad they had already been wearing their night ware, else he would've had to offer her one of his shirts to sleep in. Not that he would have minded, but with her dressed in nothing but her underwear and his shirt and as close to him as she was right now, that might have gotten a little embarrassing.

Grace rolled onto her side, facing him.

"Will you promise me something?" she wanted to know.

"Anything."

The answer was swift and easy. He was surprised the realize he really meant this, he would promise her the world if she wanted him to.

"Hold me. And don't let go. Promise me when I wake up you'll still be holding me."

He could hear how afraid she was. So he opened his arms and invited her in, holding her loosely but securely.

"I promise I'll still be holding you when you wake up," he said.

And with that promise on his mind, he fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: My, my! I hope you're all eager to discover what happened with Boy and Grace in one bed. And how this will continue, of course. Please leave me a review to tell me whether you liked it or not! And a huge thank you to all of my faithful reviewers:**

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_**I love you guys so much, your review always make my day! =)**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Waking the Dead. Nor will I ever, I'm afraid…**

**Chapter six  
**

Boyd was the first to wake up.

As always the Detective Superintendent had ten minutes left before his alarm clock would tell him it was time to get out of bed. It was a habit he had developed during the first week after he'd joined the force with Nick.

Not that it had anything to do with a desire to abide by the rules. Because work was the only thing he was ever on time for. He recalled a conversation he had had with Grace about this rather annoying habit of his.

"_I don't know why I'm always late," he had honestly said. _

"_I think I do," the profiler had revealed. _

"_Do you? Care to share your thoughts?" his question had been. _

"_I think you don't like being told what to do. And one might say being on time falls into that category," she had simply replied. _

He had to admit, now, that she had been spot on. But then again, she knew him better than anyone. How could she not have been right?

But there was little time to remain lost in thought. They needed to get themselves ready for work. So he focused his attention on the woman in his arms.

"Grace?" he asked, stroking her cheek with his free hand.

"Hmm?" she sleepily said, unconsciously leaning into his touch.

"It's time to get up if we want to make it to the CCHQ on time," he told her.

She slowly opened her eyes. A smile spread across her face, and Boyd looked at her a little questioningly.

"What?" he asked.

"You kept your promise," she stated.

He chuckled at her words. It was so typical for Grace to notice he had kept his promise sooner than to realize they were still holding each other.

"I always keep my promises to you, Grace."

Although he was serious, his tone was light. He threw back the covers.

"I know. One of your best character traits, Peter, I have to give you that. Though you might want to try doing others the same favor once in a while," she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

So she wanted to play? He would humor her, then.

"Ouch, Grace!" he spoke, pretending to be hurt.

"It's the truth, and you know it. Besides, I told you it was one of your best character traits, meaning you have more of them."

They both began to laugh out loud. It had been quite a while since they had last done this, spending the night together. Not that they'd ever done that in one bed before today, usually he would sleep in the spare room or his own bed, depending on whose house they were staying at.

Boyd now rose from the side of the bed, and Grace did the same. Even though neither one of them really felt like it.

"Same routine as usual?" Boyd inquired as he pulled open his closet to get some clothes.

"Why don't we do things a little differently this time?" she suggested.

Boyd settled for his normal work attire, a dark grey suit combined with a white shirt. He then continued his search for a pair of socks.

"Different in what way?"

"You get to take a shower first, while I try to figure out whether I've still got some clothes lying about here somewhere. I'll wash up while you are getting dressed. And then I'll cook breakfast. As a thank you. And we could eat together," she said.

Normally she would take a shower first and have breakfast after that, while he was getting ready for the day ahead. He would have already eaten, so she didn't have to cook him anything. Obviously this was indeed a bit of a departure from tradition. Yet he thought it might just be about time they made some changes.

"Okay. And about those clothes, first shelve on the right side of my wardrobe. And before you ask, yes, they have been washed and even ironed," he assured her.

"Good. I'll be in your kitchen then, seeing what I can come up with for breakfast," she said.

He could have sworn the profiler had had a smile tugging at her lips as she disappeared through his bedroom door.

Once he had gotten undressed and into the shower, his mind started racing in all directions.

Was it only something he was trying to convince himself of, or had he just seen a glimpse of the old Grace again? He was a little afraid she was only putting on the brave face for him, to make him believe she was alright. But on the other hand, she was a profiler, was she not? She was well aware of the disastrous effects bottling up emotions could have.

Soon enough his shower ended. And by the time it did, he had reached a decision on how to handle the entire situation with Grace.

He had opted for the wait and see approach. He would see where that took him. If need be, he could always change tactics, after all.

He descended the stairs. When he reached the kitchen door, he could not help but smile at the sight in front of him.

Grace was standing in front of the cooker. In her blue striped pajamas. She was humming softly to herself whilst counting eggs. Next to the eggs there was a bowl, a whisk and a pan. The gab of bread was on the other side.

"Your turn," he spoke, leaning against the doorframe.

He had spoken in barely more than a whisper, trying not to startle her. He was glad she simply turned, not startled in the least.

"Already?" she said in disbelieve. "It's a good thing then that I managed to find everything I'll be needing later. Apart from some marmalade, that is."

"Bottom shelve in the fridge. It's strawberry marmalade, in case you are wondering," he added.

"Perfect. I'll be back really soon. Behave while I'm gone and please, Peter, do not mess with the ingredients."

"This is still my kitchen, you know!" he grunted, pretending to be hurt by her comment again.

She only laughed in response as she climbed the stairs and went to the bathroom.

Boyd picked up the newspaper and began to read in order to have something to do until Grace returned. It didn't take him long to figure out the world was really going to the dogs.

Not that he concentrated on the troubles in the world. God knew he had more than enough trouble to deal with at work. But he wanted to know what was going on in the world.

Being the woman she was, Grace did indeed return from her shower as quickly as possible. Her hair was still a little wet when she appeared, which Boyd found extremely alluring.

The profiler did not seem to be bothered his eyes were following her everywhere she went. That was a good thing, because he wasn't planning to stop watching her.

Grace began whisking the eggs, adding herbs and spices as she went. Within mere minutes she was pouring the mixture into a larger bowl and dipping some slices of bread into it, ready to put them on the pan.

"What exactly is it you're making?" Boyd asked as his curiosity got the better of him.

"Home made toast," she replied.

Boyd had never seen Grace as one to make toast. But he had long ago discovered she was not at all a bad cook. And a woman of many skills. So the discovery should not really come as such a surprise.

She now put the bread on the pan. For quite some minutes less than he had anticipated she would, he had to admit. But it smelled delicious, so he refrained from commenting.

"Here you go," Grace said whilst putting a plate filled with toast covered in marmalade in front of him.

In silence they began to eat their breakfast. Boyd had to admit this was the best breakfast he had ever had. And he vowed to tell Grace that. Although he was sire it would not be today.

"I was meaning to ask you something, but this whole breakfast thing made me forget all about it," he said after a little while.

She looked at him questioningly, her hand stilling on its way to her cup of coffee.

"As was meaning to ask you whether you'd like to spend the night again. I know I'm probably stepping out of line here or something, but, you know…"

"I understand. And you're not out of line, really. Given the state I was in last night, I take it you noticed I don't do being on my own very well at the moment. So yes, I would like to spend the night again," she told him gratefully.

Boyd was genuinely relieved she was accepting his proposition without him having to convince her it was for the best. He hadn't been keen on having to persuade her, since that usually resulted in a shouting match.

"Will we be driving by your house after work then, so you can pick up a few things you might need?" he wanted to know.

"If I want clean underwear for tomorrow I'm afraid I don't really have a choice," she spoke with a straight face.

Boyd silently agreed with her, trying hard not to laugh at what she'd just said. He was successful, thank god, but only just.

He rose from his chairs and began clearing the table. When Grace made to help him, he put a hand on her shoulder, effectively preventing her from getting up. Without words he told her this was only fair after the cooking she had done.

His profiler then settled for watching him place the dishes in the sink. He thought he must look a lot like those new man every woman was after these days, or so the word go, the type who helped in the household.

"Bloody hell," Grace suddenly muttered under her breath.

"What?" he inquired, worry evident in his voice.

"There's a stain on my pants… Presumably from the eggs… Give me a second to find another one and I'll be back," she said.

She disappeared back upstairs. If he hadn't know Grace wouldn't want to be in late twice in such a short space of time, he might have gotten scared at the prospect of the reactions of the team when they came in together, late. As it was, he just shrugged.

When she met him in the hallway five minutes later, he was pleasantly surprised at what he was seeing.

Grace was wearing a simple black skirt that fell right beneath her knees, a white blouse and a black vest. She had not just changed her pants, she had changed her entire outfit. And she was looking very sexy, there was no other word to describe her. He doubted she even knew that.

He realized he was staring when her voice drifted into his head.

"Seeing something you like, Peter?"

"As a matter of fact, I am enjoying the view, thank you," he replied sweetly.

He knew it was a bold move, but he couldn't help himself.

Grace smoothed down the front of her skirt as she came to stand beside him.

"Good," she said very softly.

He wasn't sure she had meant it the way he would have liked her to. So he pretended not to have heard her.

Boyd grabbed Grace's coat and helped her into it before getting into his own jacket and searching his pockets for the car keys.

"Could I interest the lady in a ride?" he politely inquired as soon as he had found them.

"That would be very kind of you, sir," she immediately stepped into her role.

It was something they did rather frequently, this sort of role-play. But with everything that had happened, it had been a while.

In the car they listened to the music and engaged in some more of their usual witty banter. It brought back memories of days long passed, the early days of the unit. Memories of their own friendship and how it had grown to be what it was today.

And unbeknownst to the other, both of them were contemplating which side if the thin line between friendship and love they were actually on.

Finally they arrived.

"If anything happens, will you come to me?" he asked her as he parked the car.

"Of course I will," she promised him.

Content with her answer he decided not to question her any further. There was no need to, after all.

Not knowing why he linked their arms together when they had both reached the front of the car. Grace placed her free hand on top of his arm as they made their way to the CCHQ building.

When they were about to go inside, she stopped him.

"I know I already said it, but thanks. Thanks for last night, for this morning… Being able to forget about it for a little while really helped."

"And as I told you, I'm glad you trust me enough to let me be there for you."

And with their arms still linked together they entered the bullpen.

Boyd noticed the 'children' looking at them with their mouths slightly ajar. But he didn't care at all. Besides, it was funny to see their surprised faces.

The DSI smiled at his profiler one last time and locked himself in the office. He was planning on making the much dreaded call to Marianne to tell her they had evidence that placed Patrick Brown on the scene but that he unfortunately had magically disappeared.

But Marianne did not pick up her phone. Which, of course, irritated him a lot.

"Bloody Assistant Commissioner," Boyd grumbled.

As he threw the horn down, he thought he heard his and Grace's name somewhere in the distance. He looked up to see where it might have come from, and soon found the source.

Spencer, Eve and Stella were huddled together at Spencer's desk. The two women were obviously trying to convince their male colleague of something, but they weren't very successful, Boyd thought.

He was sure that was where their names had come from, though. What could they've been talking about?

His phone rang. He expected it to be Marianne, so he prepared for a less than frivol conversation.

"Detective Superintendent Boyd speaking," he said as he picked up.

"It would seem we made it into the morning's gossip," Grace's voice told him.

He chuckled. They most likely were in the morning's gossip every day. He had to admit he liked it sometimes. Or, well, most of the time.

"Would that have anything to do with the way we entered? We were very close, after all, doctor Foley."

"We should be more careful next time. Else you'll completely ruin that bad reputation of yours," she happily spoke.

"We couldn't have that, now, could we? I think you're right, maybe paying a little more attention wouldn't be such a bad thing."

She agreed and told him she had to go; she was supposed to be reading through the rest of Patrick's prison notes.

Boyd leant back in his chair after she had ended the call. He doubted she would find anything new in there, but he hadn't been willing to tell her that. She had to keep busy, she had to feel useful.

He picked up his pen to distract himself. It was anything but easy to stop himself from checking on her every minute. Or to keep asking her whether she was coping. Yet that would only make matters worse.

And she really was okay. Or at least as okay as she could be, all things considered. She had shown him that this morning. He was probably just worrying too much.

He decided to spend some time contemplating what he would say or do when he saw Patrick. Because he knew he could not screw this up again.

He knew himself well enough to realize he would not be able to hold back when the little shit did something to harm Grace. Or to push him over the line. But that would get him in trouble with Marianne, and he didn't really feel like that.

And of course he was aware of the fact Grace needed him to be in control now that she was barely holding on. She'd be disappointed in him, no doubt about that.

He had thought about this same question when Spencer and he had driven to Patrick's house. But everything had changed. The state Grace had been in last night had made his intention of refraining from slapping the bastard disappear.

He was interrupted when his phone rang again.

"Detective Superintendent Peter Boyd speaking," he said.

"I'm sorry for missing your previous phone call, Detective Superintendent. But I was rather busy, as we have quite a problem on our hands," Marianne spoke on the other side.

"And what problem might that be?" Boyd inquired.

"Patrick Brown. We have found him, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to bring Doctor Foley out here. He refuses to speak to anyone but her."

Peter fell silent. His heart was beating rapidly. He could barely breathe.

"Mister Boyd?"

"I'll talk to her and bring her to you," He promised. "Just give me the address.

And she did. He scribbled it down rapidly.

"We'll be there shortly," he said before ending the call.

He got up. Resting his hands on his desk for a moment, he couldn't believe this was really happening. Not again, not after everything that had already happened.

Boyd nearly bumped into the side of his desk as he attempted to make his way towards the door. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now, he only knew he needed to find Grace and tell her what was happening.

Finally he managed to open the door. Stepping into the bullpen, he saw her standing by Spencer's desk, bent low over what looked like a map.

"Grace?" he asked.

She turned towards him immediately.

"Yes?"

"Marianne called. They've found Patrick. We have to go."

He shook his head lightly when she opened her mouth to say something. She slowly nodded in response; he didn't have a choice.

She picked up her jacket and made her way over to him.

"Spencer, Stella, I need the two of you to stay here. We don't know what it's like there, we need you to make sure somebody's in when anything happens. And tell Eve where we are when she arrives," he demanded.

The two younger members of the team nodded. He could clearly see they were taken aback by the entire situation.

Boyd put his hand on the small of Grace's back and began guiding her outside.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay with this?" he asked her, worriedly.

"I don't know, Peter… Honestly, I don't…"

"Just remember, I'll be there. I'm not leaving. I promise."

And silence fell between them as they took off.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Chapter seven is finally up! It's longer than any of the other chapters, and I hope it's better as well! Please let me know what you think of it! After this there'll be two or three more chapters, depending, and then, this story will be finished. So we really are almost there…**

**Disclaimer: However much I wished I could say I own Waking the Dead, I have to admit I don't…**

**Chapter Seven**

The scene in front of her made her bring her hands to her mouth in utter horror.

One police car blocked the entrance to the street they were heading for on the right side. A second one prevented people getting in on the other side. And a third one was standing in the middle of the street to give the officers present some sort of cover.

Grace felt strangely numb. Somehow it was as if none of it was happening to her. She seemed to almost be looking at the events taking place from a distance.

As a profiler she knew this had nothing to do with her. It was a normal reaction in people who had experienced some sort of trauma. But that didn't make it any easier to accept she was the one having to deal with the emotions.

"Come on. Marianne said she'd be waiting for us when we arrived," Boyd told her.

She nodded. In her head she was trying to figure out what she had to say to Patrick. If he only wanted to talk to her, he would definitely want something from her. The only question that remained was what he would be asking her for. And whether she'd be able to give it to him.

Both of them showed their identity cards when they reached the officers near the car blocking the way, and they were allowed to pass through via the small stroke of pavement that had been left unblocked.

Boyd pulled her passed three officers who were caught up in a very heated discussion, although she was too preoccupied to pay attention to what they were talking about at all.

"Doctor Foley, I'm so glad to see you're here," Marianne said as soon as they came into view.

"I hope I can be of any use," she countered quickly.

She didn't want to get Marianne's hopes up. After all, she was not entirely convinced herself that she'd be any better at getting Patrick to surrender to the police instead of staying inside that building than the other people at the scene had been so far.

Instead of reacting to Grace's statement, though, Marianne said:

"Follow me, please. I think it'd be best if we talked somewhere more private."

Marianne motioned for her and Boyd to follow her towards the police van a few feet away. It was the most private place in the vicinity.

Standing behind it they would be invisible to anyone inside the building, Grace realized. Probably Marianne didn't want to give Patrick the satisfaction of knowing she was there just yet.

The profiler deemed it a wise decision, although it was highly unlikely Marianne had made it because of her knowledge what knowing Grace had arrived would do to Patrick.. If he thought he could get anything he wanted by yelling and staying up there, he was probably not going to give up that power very easily. That much she knew. Probably Marianna had seen that as well.

"I believe you will be. You see, Mister Andrews, our Metropolitan Police expert concerning this type of situation, has tried to talk to Mister Brown, but he refuses to speak to anyone but you," Marianne said now. 

"Has he said that? In what manner?" Grace inquired.

It was important to get as much information as she possibly could about his state of mind before she had to face him. If she were to persuade him the best thing to do was go with the officers, she could not afford to make any mistakes.

"He yelled," Marianne stated. "He threw a brick to one of the officers to cool his anger when Mister Andrews informed him you were not here, and he demanded we brought you here."

"Very insistent man," Boyd darkly muttered.

Grace softly nudged him in the ribs, effectively silencing him. It wouldn't do for Boyd to get himself into trouble over this, it wasn't his fault. He wasn't even a part of it. And God knew she'd need him later on.

She turned her attention to some more pressing matters than those of whether Patrick was insisted or plain stupid. More precisely to a question she had had since she had spotted the car in the middle of the street.

"These cars on both ends of the street I understand. They are means of protecting innocent passers-by against the anger of the man inside that building. Yet the one in the middle of the street, at least to me, seems to be a way of protecting the police officers against gunshots. Is Patrick armed?"

If he was, she certainly was not going to waste any time. An enraged Patrick was bad enough, if he started behaving violently things could spin out of control within a matter of seconds.

Marianne took her time, trying to find the right words to answer Grace's question. But the profiler was not in the mood to wait.

"I need to know, Marianne. If he doesn't have a gun on him, nobody will get hurt. No matter what happens. But if he just happens to have one and things don't go as he would like them to go, he'll start shooting. And when that happens, even I won't be able to talk back sense into him. You'll never get him out of there when he starts shooting. He will be feeling extremely bad about it. He won't _want _to do it. But he'll be compelled to do it," Grace told her.

Grace could feel Boyd's eyes darting to Marianne's. She knew he was looking at the woman with an insistent and dark look on his face that would have her cave in very quickly.

Mere seconds later, she was proven right as Marianne took a breath and began to speak anew.

"We don't know for sure. He's kept himself hidden all along, the only thing we've seen of him is his head. And not even half of it, I might add. But a few moments before you arrived, he seemed to be making a motion as if he were holding something. Though whether it was a gun…"

Marianne's voice died away.

"You'd rather believe it was another brick he had in his hand, ready to throw it at whoever decided to get on his nerves next? Or does it seem more likely that he was holding a weapon of sorts?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. You are here to help us figure that out, aren't you? You know this man. You tell me whether we should be concerned about him having a gun or something."

Grace didn't need to think long to find an answer to that question. She did need some time to find the right way to explain everything to Marianne and Boyd, though.

She did not want to scare either one of them. But they needed to understand how Patrick thought if she wanted them to be able to help her get him out of there.

"Last time he pulled a stunt like this, he was armed. He never intended to use the knife he had in his hands when I met him. Yet he did. Even though he was so sorry he turned himself in afterwards."

She looked them right into the eyes before continuing.

"I'm not saying this to get your pity. I'm saying this because you both need to comprehend what this man is all about. Now, the compulsion he has to protect himself will make sure that when he aims an attack on someone, it will be meant to kill. Whatever weapon he has, he will not hesitate to use it."

The worry she could read in Boyd's eyes told her he at least knew what she was talking about. But that didn't surprise her, he knew what Patrick had done to her all those years ago. She wasn't completely sure Marianne was getting it, but there was no time to find out.

"Look," she said, "Just to be safe we should presume he is armed and dangerous. Spread that word. And make sure everybody stays as far away from the building as possible. We don't want any accidents."

She looked over her shoulder when a distant voice reached her ears. Two of the officers were having some sort of discussion. It did not seem to be related to the situation they were currently dealing with. So she turned her attention towards the doors she could vaguely see from behind the vehicle.

It looked so much like the door she had seen in the nightmares that had plagued her for months after her ordeal thirty-five years earlier. Just as ordinary and unspectacular, with behind them the same evil that had crossed her path last time.

She was dragged back when she felt Peter's hand on her arm.

"Sorry… I got a little distracted…"

"Don't fret about it," he told her, reassuringly. "Marianne just said she would talk to mister Edwards and see whether he can get something else than an insult from Patrick. I don't know why she's bothering, though, we all know he'll just tell her to bugger off…"

The last part of that sentence was a dark sort of mutter, yet Grace understood it perfectly.

She allowed Boyd to lead her away from the car, making sure they stayed out of sight and would not be in the way of the other people at the scene.

Grace suddenly felt relieved that Boyd had asked Spencer and Stella to stay at the office. Somehow she felt as if having them here, possibly endangering them, would have made all of this even more difficult.

Being the two oldest team members, Boyd and Grace had always felt responsible for the others. That had been very obvious when Mel had been shot, because Boyd had let himself slip, blaming himself for what had happened. And Grace'd had to fight hard not to do the same.

Shaking her head, she realized Boyd had been there when that had happened. For some reason, she had managed to hold on until he had gotten back control over himself before crumbling down and succumbing to her grief at the office late one night.

"_Grace?"  
_

_His voice was soft and worried. Yet however much she wanted to say something, she couldn't. Her throat was constricted with emotions._

"_Are you okay?" he asked, when he finally spotted her small and fragile form leaning against the cupboard._

_She shook her head. Her face was dry. It was if she had been so angry the last month that she had no tears to shed._

_Instead of saying something, he wordlessly sank down next to her. Not too close, just close enough for comfort._

_Together they sat there, not speaking. Neither one of them moving even an inch. Until Grace found the strength she needed and started weeping, allowing the tears that had been building up to begin rolling down her cheeks._

"_It's okay," he murmured._

_He pulled her against his chest. One of his hands was in her neck, the other one was on her back._

_And so they sat there for over an hour, while Grace cried and Boyd whispered sweet nothings in her ear._

The memory gave her some much needed strength. Knowing Peter would be there for her no matter what calmed her down enough to focus her attention on mister Edward and Patrick again.

Mister Edward was attempting to strike up a conversation with Patrick now, and Grace crossed her fingers, hoping he would succeed.

"Patrick, it's George again. Remember, we talked before," mister Edward began.

"I won't speak to anyone but doctor Grace Foley!"

Patrick's voice was laced with anger, if nothing it was a clear sign he was getting frustrated and it would soon become impossible to talk to him. And there was a slight tremor in his voice, telling the profiler Patrick was agitated and insecure, doubting things would end the way he wanted them to.

When Grace saw the man was trying to think of what to say, she made a decision. She waved him down. Slowly she made her way towards him, motioning for him to hand it to her. The man did so, but only after having looked at Marianne to see whether he was allowed to.

"She's right here, Patrick," Grace spoke, clearly.

Silence fell. Nobody dared to even breathe. Nobody dared to move. They were all awaiting what his next move would be.

"How can I be sure you are really doctor Grace Foley?" he suddenly yelled.

"What if I told you that last time we met it nearly killed me? Or that you apologized to me?" she said.

His face appeared in the window farthest to the left side of the building. It was clear he was hesitant to come and take a look. She wasn't sure whether she had convinced him, either.

"I want to talk to you," he eventually said, still keeping himself hidden.

"And I want to talk to you," Grace told him. "So why don't you begin by telling my why on Earth you're up there?"

Patrick fell silent again, and Grace did not like that at all. As long as he kept talking, she had some idea of what was going on inside his head. Who knew what he was thinking when he didn't speak?

"I won't talk to you like that," came his reply some minutes later.

The profiler swallowed. God knew this could only mean one thing, and it sure as hell wasn't a good one.

"What do you mean, Patrick?"

She had to ask. Not for herself, but for the others present.

"I want you to come and talk to me here. Just you and me. Like old times, remember?" he said.

"Let me talk to the others first, okay? You understand what they're like, don't you? I'll be there in a minute, alright? I promise it won't take me any longer."

"Yeah, I know what they're like. Never understand anyone but themselves, self-centered bastards… You're different, though. Yeah, see you in a minute."

Grace walked over to Peter and Marianne. Peter's face was worried, Marianne's was pale and unsure.

She sighed. This wouldn't be easy…

"You're not serious, are you, Grace?" Peter whispered. "You're not really going in there, are you?"

Marianne eyed her, the same question visible in her eyes.

"I'm afraid I don't have another choice... He won't speak to anyone but me. He trust me, if I go in and talk to him, I might get him out of the building. Last time we met, I talked him out of his hiding place as well."

"Yeah, just not before he'd nearly killed you," Marianne dryly said. "If he's armed, don't you think he might hurt you again?"

Grace felt her composed appearance beginning to crumble. This had to happen now, or she wouldn't have the strength to do it.

"Listen to me. The both of you. I do not want to go in there. My heart is telling me not to, my head is telling me not to. But I have to. If we want to get him out of there, I have to go in. Whatever might happen, or whatever I fear might happen. So please, just… Don't make it any harder than it already is and let me get in there. The sooner this is over with, the sooner we can all go back to our normal lives."

She looked at them, trying to persuade them to let her go and get this over and done with.

When neither one of them spoke she turned towards the building.

"Patrick? I'm coming in, alright?"

He answered affirmatively.

She took a deep breath, gathering every ounce of strength she had. She would need it. God knew she would.

As she wanted to cross the street, Peter suddenly called out to her.

"Grace?"

She turned. He didn't say anything more, he simply pulled her against him and held her close for a few seconds.

As she pushed her away from him, she nodded. She knew why he had done it, and she was more grateful than she could ever explain that he had.

When she reached the door, her heart felt as if it was going to explode. Anger, anxiety and reluctance all battled within her. But she pushed the wooden door open none-the-less.

The house smelt old. There were dark water stains on the walls. The carpet in the hall was torn in several places.

She tried not to think of how the carpet had gotten into such a state while she mounted the stairs. All that mattered was getting Patrick to leave the house without any accidents. It wasn't worth concentrating on anything else.

"Patrick?" she called out when she reached the landing.

She wanted to know where he was hiding. There was no point on stepping into a room she wasn't sure he was in.

"Third door on your left," came his reply.

Grace pushed the door open only to find Patrick leaning casually against the wall in front of her.

"Patrick," she said, trying to smile as if she wasn't scared.

But apparently she didn't quite pull it off, because his eyes narrowed slightly and he began walking towards her with deliberate, long steps.

"I thought you'd be happier to see me," he said.

In his hands was a knife very much like the one he had held the last time they'd met. It immediately brought back memories, but she refused to let herself be dragged back into her past.

"I am happy, Patrick. Honestly, I am. Those asses out there just never give me a moment of peace," she brushed it off.

His hand was now on her arm. She did the best she could to prevent herself from starting to tremble or to pull away, however much she wanted to. It would be a mistake, and there was no room for mistakes.

His hold on her tightened. He slowly began to pull her towards the wall he'd been leaning against when she entered, forcing her to look out of the window.

"They haven't given me a moment of peace, either. Those incompetent bastards have been doing nothing but pester me. I just needed to get away from prison! Is that so bad?"

Patrick was raising his voice now. He was losing control.

"No, it isn't. I worked in prison, Patrick. I know what they do in there. That's why I left."

It was a lie, but he couldn't know. And at least it would get him to talk to her and it would distract him.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I couldn't stand the guards taking out their anger on prisoners who hadn't done anything. Or prisoners being beaten up by other prisoners. I saw some very nasty injuries because of all the fighting."

He was still forcing her to look at the officers on the street. She could see Peter and Marianne standing beside the car in the middle of the street. She hoped this would be all over soon.

Minutes passed. She couldn't say how many, but she realized it must have been at least five. And the longer she stood there, the harder it became not to run away.

"Why do they keep doing this to me? Why can't they just let me be?" Patrick almost pleaded with her, changing the subject suddenly and unexpectedly.

She thought about what to say for a few seconds before replying.

"They're afraid you might have somebody hostage. They don't want to hurt you, but they don't want to see someone else getting hurt either. They're just doing their jobs."

Patrick stared out of the window. His eyes didn't see anything, his mind was wandering. For the second time it took him over five minutes to say what was on his mind. And Grace vowed not to take as long to answer any questions he might have for her.

"Like you?"

"No, not like me. I came because you wanted to see me. Because you're my friend and you need my help."

Again a lie. But she needed to persuade him he could trust her or things might very well go very wrong.

"If you're a friend you would have made them leave," he said, sounding like a displeased child.

"I don't have that power. Not without your help. If we work together, we can make them leave. But I can't do it on my own."

He thought about what she had just said whilst turning the knife around in his hands. She had made a very dangerous move right there, because if he turned down her offer to work together, he could turn against her.

"What do you mean?" he wanted to know.

"Well, you could tell Mister Edward you don't have any hostages. He would be very grateful and it would calm them down. They might even send some of the officers away because they realize they can trust you if they see you're telling the truth."

Patrick nodded. So far things were going great. He poked his head out of the window and did as Grace had told him.

But he did not loosen his grip on the profiler. On the contrary, he was pinching so hard she was sure she would end up with a bruise on her wrist.

Three of the officers now walked towards the left end of the street. Grace knew them to be sharp shooters. They had made the decision to shoot to kill since he had no-one else than her in the building.

Patrick sank down against the wall. He pulled Grace with him so she was sitting right next to him. She could feel his leg pressing against hers. His hand was still around her wrist and the knife was laying on his other side.

And so they waited. She couldn't force him to talk and risk him losing control. She would have to wait.

But Patrick made no move whatsoever. He didn't speak, he didn't move. It was as if he were waiting for something. But she had no idea what he was waiting for.

"Patrick? Are you still willing to talk?" Mister Edward's voice called all of a sudden.

"Depends on what you want!" he yelled back.

Grace tried to keep her breathing even and calm. But she barely succeeded. This was it. It needed to happen now.

"I just wanted to ask you a question," Mister Edward said. "You have what you want. Why are you still refusing to come down?"

_Not a good question,_ Grace thought. _But it will prompt him to do something. And an acting Patrick is better than this!_

"Because I'm not sure I can trust you!" he spat out.

So that was what he wanted? Then she would give it to him.

"Patrick?" she asked when mister Edward remained silent.

He made a small grunting sound to make it clear he was listening.

"Do you want to leave?"

"Of course I do! I'm getting agitated from being locked up! Why?"

Grace spoke softly, as if she was telling him a secret. He nearly had to bent over to be able to hear her.

"I can get you out of here. But you need to trust me. Do you trust me?"

"I do," Patrick said.

"Tell mister Edward you're coming out. Do not tell him in which order we're coming out. I'll be the first to step through the door. They're most likely to believe it'll be you who comes out first. And you can run if they shoot me."

None of the officers would shoot before knowing who was stepping through the door. But Patrick would believe they would. If she stepped through the door first, she would be outside, no matter what happened to Patrick. She'd be safe.

She could vaguely hear him do exactly what she had told him to. And then he roughly pulled her up and put the knife against her back. She could feel the cold steel through her clothing.

"Walk," he nearly hissed.

She obeyed. There was nothing else she could do. If she refused, he might force her back upstairs and things might get as ugly as they'd been last time.

Every step was one too many. She cursed them all as they went, wishing for them to simply disappear and solid ground to be beneath her feet.

And then they were down. He was pushing her forwards, towards the door. The final hurdle. Once she was out there she'd be safe.

She didn't run. She simply stepped over the threshold and continued walking. But all of a sudden there were gun shots.

Not knowing why she turned around. The first bullet had missed because he had lingered a split second longer than the shooter had anticipated. But as she watched, the second shot hit its target.

She closed her eyes, but she felt the wet splatter of his blood on her chest. Red droplets fell on her hand.

Grace realized her breathing was quick and shallow all of a sudden. Her head was spinning. Her knees gave way.

"Grace!"

As she heard Peter call her name, she felt a sharp pain in her right shoulder. When she touched it with her hand, her fingers were covered in blood. But she couldn't think anymore. She couldn't keep sitting on her knees. She fell on her back, slowly, as if it was happening in slow motion.

Right before she hit the concrete, Peter reached her. He pulled her head on his lap.

"It's alright, Grace. It's alright. You're safe," he whispered.

She felt him put two gingers against her neck to check her pulse.

"Where's that bloody ambulance?" he yelled.

She heard somebody say something, but she couldn't understand what. It just didn't seem to register.

"They're coming, Grace. Please, breathe slowly and deeply for me. Come on, baby, come on…"

He'd never called her "baby" before, but neither one of them was really paying attention. He just wanted her to be okay, and she was too far gone because of her hyperventilation.

"Move out of the way!"

The paramedics had arrived and began pushing everyone out of the way. Soon enough she was hooked up to a monitor that registered her heartbeat and oxygen saturation.

Peter kept talking to her. He kept saying she'd be alright, and he kept promising he wouldn't let go of her. Just as she had made him promise when she had fallen asleep in his arms.

"You have to go now," one of the paramedics told Boyd.

He reluctantly got onto his feet and took a few steps back. But suddenly the machines began beeping shrilly.

"Heartbeat elevated, she's in ventricle tachycardia! Blood pressure's through the roof!"

Peter didn't think. He just ran back towards Grace and grabbed her hand, using the other to force her to look at him.

"Slowly. Breathe nice and slow. Good, you're doing great. He's gone. Relax, baby. I'm here, nothing's going to happen."

The machines beeping subsided. The paramedics just looked at one another.

"Could you ride with us? She's stable now, she seems to benefit from your presence. We have to move quickly."

"You're bloody sure I'm riding with you! I'd have flashed by batch if you hadn't let me!" he growled, tightening his hold on Grace's hand.

"That I'm certain of," the paramedic said in barely more than a whisper, as he motioned for his partner to get the trolley out and help him get the woman in the back of the ambulance.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hi, you guys! Here I am again, with the eighth chapter to my story! And it's almost the last, as well… I know you've had to wait a long time to get it, and I'm really sorry! I just hope you'll read an enjoy this chapter as much as the previous ones! Please leave me a review! Even if you really hate it. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Waking the Dead. Nor will I ever, I'm afraid…  
**

_**Chapter Eight**_

Grace was being rushed into the hospital. Boyd was still holding her hand as they entered the building.

"A fifty-six year old woman by the name of Grace Foley. Elevated blood pressure and heartbeat very high and irregular at the scene. Blood pressure still too high, but heartbeat nearly back to normal. A bullet grazed her shoulder, pressure bandage has been applied," the paramedic spoke.

One of the nurses took a chart from the pile on the desk behind her and handed it over to her colleague.

"Bring her to room one," the nurse closest to him immediately told him. "I'll contact doctor Evans."

The paramedic did as he was told and began to roll the bed towards the aforementioned room.

Boyd was well aware of the hurried actions of the hospital staff around them. But he did not pay attention to any of it, as he was concentrating solely on Grace. The rest didn't really matter.

As they entered the small room the paramedics were supposed to leave Grace in, a couple of nurses came up to them, taking over.

"Karen, go find some new bandages. And some morphine. And see where doctor Evans is."

The young woman by the name of Karen nodded and left.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid you're going to have to leave," the woman closest to Boyd said.

He looked at Grace, the blood and the pain she was in making him want to scream he wasn't bloody going anywhere. But these people needed to be able to do their jobs if they wanted to help Grace.

So he allowed himself to be pushed towards and out of the door, trying to keep looking over his shoulder as long as he could.

Before he knew what had happened, the door had closed on him and he was alone in front of it.

"I'm sorry, are you waiting for someone here?" a nurse suddenly asked.

Boyd turned around. The man was holding a box containing some blankets that obviously needed to be stored somewhere.

"Yes, actually… A… Someone I love has just been brought in, and the nurses kicked me out so they could to their job," he said.

The male nurse looked at him sympathetically. He probably understood what Boyd was feeling like, since he had most likely seen dozens of people in his position before.

"I'll take you to the family room. You can get some tea or coffee there, it'll help you relax as you wait. I should normally take you into the waiting room, but I think I'll make an exception for you," the nurse told him.

Boyd nodded gratefully. He really hadn't liked the idea of having to wait for new in an overcrowded, too small room with people he didn't know and who would be wondering what he was in there for.

He followed the younger man through the hall and around the corner, where he opened the door to a small, rather cozy room which was completely devoid from other people. There were some seats in there, and a small table, but nothing elaborate.

"In the room next to this you can get something to drink. And if you need anything, you can use that button to ring the bell. Someone'll be with you in a matter of seconds then," he assured Boyd.

The Detective Superintendent was torn between two very different emotions. At one hand he was glad to be in this silent environment, but on the other hand he would have rather been in the crowded chamber Grace was in, just to be able to be with her and stand by her.

Pacing back and forth through the room, his mind kept wandering back to the events leading up to their arrival in hospital. To the man who had so carelessly aimed for Patrick that he had shot his Grace.

He had to admit that if he ever managed to get his hands on the man responsible for this, he was going to forget every rule that forbade him to have his way with him. Where the hell had he gotten permission to fire a gun if he couldn't even shoot at the intended target, but instead took out innocent victims?

But Boyd knew Grace would talk him out of taking revenge on the man. As well as on Patrick, he was sure of that. She was always too kind for her own good. He had learned that about her very quickly.

This time, though, she might think about it differently. This was something very different than Stella betraying the team before she had even gotten to know her. Or a complete stranger threatening her while she was questioning him. This was someone who had tried to take it out on her before, her past coming back to haunt her. Would she still forgive Patrick now he had hurt her for a second time?

Time went by way too slowly for his liking. It seemed every minute lasted an hour. But at least the minutes passed by.

Suddenly Boyd was pulled out of his thoughts. Someone was walking through the corridor, he could hear their footsteps coming closer with every minute that passed.

_Is it someone coming to give me some news?_ He asked himself. _Good news, maybe? Or bad news? Or is it somebody who will simply pass by on his way to another part of the hospital?_

There was a small knock on the door before it was pushed open. A young woman Boys recognized from before stepped inside.

"Mister Boyd?" she asked.

Boyd's heart pounded rapidly now. Was this going to be good news, or bad news?

"Yes?" he questioned.

The young nurse seemed a little more at ease knowing she had found the right man.

"I'm really sorry I have to come and get you, but miss Foley keeps asking about you. Her heart rate and blood pressure have risen again, and she is in a lot of pain. But whatever we do, it doesn't seem to help. And she keeps asking for you," she repeated.

Boyd was surprised to hear that. Was Grace really letting go of herself like that? Surely she couldn't be. He had never known her to behave like that.

"Will you come with me, please?" the nurse asked him.

Boyd did not have to think twice. He stepped towards the nurse, following her into the corridor.

All around, there seemed to be chaos now. Everybody was running around, trying very hard not to collide with any of the other doctors and nurses around. Something had obviously happened. Something bad, most likely. But if it wasn't Grace, Boyd were honest, he didn't really care. He had to see her, or he'd simply explode!

When he entered the room she was in, following the nurse who immediately stepped towards the side to let him pass her by, he saw why he had been asked to come.

Grace was breathing very shallowly. Very rapidly, too. The monitors on her side were beeping avidly.

"Well, what's this?" he asked her, drawing her attention.

She tried to reply, but he could tell she was finding it difficult to get any air through her throat.

"… Sorry," she eventually managed.

He moved closer to the bed. At least she could speak. But she sure wasn't looking good…

"Don't be. Just tell me what I can do to help," he said.

Grace closed her eyes and allowed her head to fall forwards so that it came to rest against his chest.

"Miss Foley's blood pressure and heart rate are too. And I'm afraid she is not responding to the treatment very well. Unfortunately, we urgently need to see how much damage had been done to her shoulder. And whit a blood pressure is this high, she will lose even more blood than she normally would," doctor Evans told him.

Boyd nodded slowly. He motioned for Grace to move forward, which she did, although he could see she was looking at him questionably.

"I told you I would be there when you needed me, didn't I? So here I am. But you have to let me help you, okay? As well as the doctors," he said.

Grace nodded. He though she probably thought it was too hard to speak, so she opted for communicating wordlessly.

He sat down on the bed behind her, pulling her slowly and softly against. By the way she leaned against him, she could tell that she was scared. She was trembling so hard she almost couldn't keep her hands still.

"It's okay. I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere. Alright? Now focus on me while the doctor has a look at your shoulder, alright?"

She closed her eyes, grabbing his hand. She squeezed it with all her might, but he could already tell that the shaking was subsiding.

The doctor nodded approvingly at the screens, evidently happy with the effect Boyd was having on his patient.

"Ah, ah, ah, no focusing on the doctor there, miss Foley!" he told her as she wanted to open her eyes when she felt the doctor pull at the bandages. "An here was me, thinking I was the man in your life!"

She laughed at that. Not as brightly as she'd normally do, but at least he recognized the old Grace again.

"Oh, you are," she said, slowly. "But I thought you'd find a better way if distracting me than simply saying that."

Boyd was unsure where this was going. Was she serious? Was she challenging him? If she was, she was in for it, that much was certain. After all, he would never pass on a challenge.

"Is that a challenge, doctor Foley?" he asked her.

He could feel her move slightly to the right before answering his question. Obviously, she needed a better distraction.

"I do believe I am," she replied.

And Boyd didn't need long to think his next move over. He had been waiting to do this for so long that he could hardly believe he was actually given a chance.

He pressed his lips to her hair very softly, which clearly was distracting her very much, because she didn't even flinch when the doctor grabbed a small syringe with some morphine and injected the medicine into her shoulder.

"What?..." she finally managed to say.

He just sniggered as he turned her head, making sure her shoulder didn't move even an inch.

"I wondered what it would be like to kiss you. Even though it wasn't a real kiss, I have to admit I kind of liked it. But maybe I should find someone else and kiss them for comparison," he said.

What happened then was something he had not at all been expecting.

Grace lifted her head just a little, bringing her lips to his. Not even his wildest dreams had come close to what he felt when she touched her soft lips against his. If it hadn't been necessary to keep her absolutely still, he would have pulled her even closes, but no, he was content to bring his hand to her face, laying them against her cheek.

"Do you still think you should find another woman to kiss to be able to compare both kisses?" she asked him softly.

He shook his head.

"The only thing going through my mind is: wow… Besides maybe the question: why didn't I do that sooner?"

Both of them actually had almost forgotten about the doctors and the nurses. That was, until the doctor cleared his throat.

""You'll be needing some stitches, miss Foley. But the bone has not been damages. And there are no bullet fragments inside the wound. So we'll clean it up, stitch it together and organize some pain relief. Then, you're free to go," the doctor happily announced.

Grace blushed slightly. Boy knew she was feeling like a teenager getting caught kissing her boyfriend.

He decided he should take some of the pressure of off her by making sure she knew he was okay with this.

"That's good. I can't stand the woman I love being in pain," he admitted.

He squeezed her hand at that, emphasizing his words even more. He had to admit a part of him was scared she wouldn't believe him if he didn't.

"Alright. I'll be right back with the things I'll be needing," the doctor said.

Nearly imperceptibly, the man motioned for all of the nurses to leave the room. These two had a lot to talk about, and it was best to let them begin while they picked up the necessary things.

"Did you mean what you said?" she asked him when they were alone at last.

"That I can't stand seeing you in pain? Of course I did," he said.

Grace laughed at that, using her uninjured arm to hit him lightly on the chest.

"I mean… Did you mean it when you said that I'm the woman you love? It wasn't just a means of distracting me?"

She sounded very insecure. Boyd's heart bled at that. She was such a strong woman. She had gotten through so much throughout the years they had known each other. And now, she was doubting everything.

He lowered his head and kissed her again, more than last time trying to put everything he wanted to say in the kiss. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers.

"You know I don't exactly have a way with words… But I did mean it, Grace. I love you. I have loved for a long time now. But I'm such a jerk sometimes that I didn't think you'd ever give me a chance… Today… Today was just… I thought I'd lost you, Grace. I thought I was never going to see you again… When my son died, I had you. But now, I thought I would be alone, because there's nobody that could understand what it would have meant if I'd have lost you…" he whispered.

When he looked her in the eyes, he saw the love he felt for her reflected that, bright and clear for the world to see. Even for him, Peter Boyd, a man who had never been able to read women.

"I love you, too," she told him, even though he already knew.

He pulled her close, careful not to touch her injured shoulder, and even then did not believe he was finally holding the woman that he loved.

It was strange, he mused, but he had never felt this way before. If he were completely honest, this was a love so different from the love he had felt for his wife that he thought he could never compare them.

She turned onto her side, her head still leaning against his chest. She sighed. If she was feeling anything like him, which by the looks of it, she was, that sigh could only mean one thing: she was glad to be here, in his arms.

And he would make sure she never regretted stepping into them. It would be hard from time to time to involve Grace in everything he did, or was going through, he would do his best. Because after Luke had died, he had promised he wouldn't exclude her. And so far he hadn't. So he was not going to break his promise now, and ruin everything he had just gained.

"Boyd?" she suddenly asked.

Her voice was sounding a bit sleepy. She was probably tired after the exhausting weeks they'd had. The traumatic events were taking their toll on her body. She really needed to rest as soon as the doctors had finished with her.

"Yes, baby?" he said, using a pet name for the first time.

She smiled, and he was glad to see it. He made a mental note to use pet names more often from then on.

"What are we going to tell the others?" she asked him.

Boyd was taken a bit aback by that. He had thought none of this through, it had just happened because the opportunity had presented itself. He hadn't exactly thought about the consequences yet.

He was silent for a few minutes, thinking it over. They could never hope to keep this a secret for long. Stella would definitely notice something immediately. And so would Eve. They were women. And as soon as they had caught on to it, they would tell Spencer. It would be better if they all heard it together, and from them personally, he figured. But he'd let Grace decide.

"Honestly? It doesn't matter much to me. As long as you're happy, I'm happy. If you want to tell them, then that's what we'll do. And I think it would be better to tell them ourselves than have them discover it when we least expect it. The blow will be less hard that way," he told her, smiling.

She laughed as well. He had surely made a point there.

"You're right. So can we tell them straight away?" she pleaded.

She was looking at him so innocently, like a child seeking reassurance. It really made him melt.

"Yes, we can," he said.

He decided not to tell her they should probably wait a couple of months to see whether they would surely make it. After all, in their line of work finding love was never easy. And they had known each other for seven years now. They knew each other through and through. Why was he worrying so much.

She nodded.

"Thank you. But before we tell them, I need to tell them Patrick's story. Well, the part he shared with me, at last…"

He nodded his understanding.

He saw her lips begin to move. Just as she was about to say something, though, doctor Evans came in with his suture kit.

"Here we are," he said.

Boyd gave Grace one last kiss.

"I'll be outside, waiting. And I'll go and find the others and tell them you're okay. They'll want to know. And they'll want to see you," he told her.

Grace nodded.

"Then we can tell them. Go and find them. And don't be too long," she asked him.

Fortunately it did not take Boyd very long to find Stella, Spencer and Eve. They were sitting in the waiting room, Stella holding Spencer's hand and Eve having her arm draped over Stella's shoulders.

They jumped up as soon as they saw him. They began to speak all together, but he simply raised his hand to quiet them down.

"Grace is going to be okay," he told them.

There was a sigh of relief going through the group. They had all been so scared of losing her, it was all they had been able to think about. She had been like a mother to them since they had known her, always being there for them, giving them advise when they needed it.

"And she wants to see the lot of you," he added.

They all looked at each other, wondering what on earth she might want to speak to them about.

They followed Boyd through the corridors until they reached the chamber in which she lay. When Boyd made to knock on the door, it swung open, doctor Evans stepping outside.

"Right on time, I see, Peter. Now you hurry along and get back in there," he joyfully said.

When Boyd nodded thank you, the others looked at each other again. Such a display of happiness should have brought out the worst in Boyd after a day like this. But now they came to think of it, he did seem oddly happy.

He lead the way in. As soon as he had stepped through the door, he took his seat next to Grace, offering his hand for the moral support he knew she was going to need for what she was going to do next.

"Hi, you guys…" she began. "I'm sorry I scared you so much today…"

They all said that it was no big deal. They were just glad to see she was going to be fine.

"Yes, I will be. But if I want you to understand why this all happened, I need to tell you a story."

And with that, she began to tell them what had led up to everything that had happened these past weeks.


End file.
